USUK Drabble Calendar: November 2014
by 365daysofUSUK
Summary: A drabble a day for more USUK! The file for the USUK Drabble Calendar, the month of November in the year of 2014.
1. November 1st

**AUTHOR: Akiko**

**1st of November, 2014 - British Taste**

While England is speaking, blue eyes are trained on him, following every little motion of his lips. They take in the details of his face, how his eye-colour seems to darken when he is talking about something very serious or a topic that matters personally to him.

How a faint, light colour of red dusts the pale cheeks with the almost invisible freckles when Arthur puts his hidden passion into his speech and his accent is enchanting everyone in the room.

America can't look away.

He sits at the table, his documents for today's meeting messily spread over his place, unnoticed. His entire attentions lays on the Brit who is standing tall at the other side and tries to make a clear statement on some political matter. Alfred doesn't care about the things England is saying; he's focusing on the way he says it.

On the thick accent, the deep voice, these intense green eyes – Arthur's appearance in general is something that has started to demand all of Alfred's attention lately.

Suddenly, there's a silence as England stops talking and America jumps in his seat when the green eyes he'd been so focused on all of a sudden look at him. Instantly, he blushes very obviously, stutters an excuse and quickly gathers his papers to start the speech.

England seems surprised when America calls after him after the meeting is over. "Wait, England! Gotta talk to you!" The blond Brit stops and turns around, only to see the typical, big and cheerful grin on Alfred's face as he comes running towards him.

He can't help but to notice the lingering blush that covers the young face.

"What is it, America, you know I have work to do! Make it quick", the Brit grumbles in response, but he's not as annoyed as he makes it look. America knows that.

"Just wanted to know if you're up for dinner later on. And no, I don't mean McDonald's, I mean a real dinner in a nice restaurant! Do you?"

Arthur draws his brows together. "Do I what?"

"Do you want to go or not? Come on, I'm inviting you! And I'll pick you up." England can only sigh at the puppy-eyes expression and the hopeful smirk that lights up Alfred's face – and he nods with a little sigh. The loud outburst of happiness causes him to roll his eyes, but in all honesty, England is secretly very happy over this chance to meet up.

As promised, the restaurant is a fancy one. Alfred laughs at the almost shocked expression on Arthur's face when he realizes that he didn't lie. The Brit grumbles a bit but his mood lights up when the waiter brings the drinks and takes their orders for the food.

England takes the first sip from the red wine he's ordered and America can't stop himself from staring. He's mesmerized from Arthur's lips and swallows hard when the Brit flicks out his tongue to catch a few drops of wine.

A question pops up in Alfred's head. One he's asked himself for years already.

If he was to kiss Arthur… how would his lips taste?

Maybe they'd be salty from back then when England was a pirate. When he ruled the seven seas and everyone felt a shiver of fear from calling his name.

Maybe they'd be bitter from the tea he is always drinking.

And right now…

England's eyes widen in shock when Alfred suddenly leans forward, grabs him by the tie and pulls him close. Their lips meet and Arthur is too surprised to struggle or protest; he lets America do and even relaxes slightly from the soft contact.

Yet when they part, they both blush furiously and the Brit mutters a curse, demands to know what just happened and why.

"I don't know…", Alfred starts, voice quiet and his cheeks a deep red. "I just… wanted to kiss you. I wondered how you'd taste if I did…"

Arthur can only stare at him, but then a little frown appears on his forehead. He grabs the hand that still holds his tie, frees himself and they both sit back in the chairs again. Then he clears his throat.

".. to figure this out, you'll need more than such a little kiss", England mumbles.

For a moment, it's dead quiet after his words and he almost doubts if America could hear them at all.

Alfred heard him just fine. His cheeks turn a furious shade of red at the suggestion that stands behind Arthur's words, but then he reacts in an instant. England doesn't even protest when he's dragged outside, after a mere call to the waiter that they would be back soon.

Once outside, Arthur finds himself pinned against a wall, but he encourages the blond nation in front of him, gently combs his fingers through his hair and pulls him closer. Their lips meet for a second time and now, it's much more passionate.

"... We should move to another place", America suggests after they part; he's a little out of breath and his cheeks are deep red. Arthur looks the same, only with a teasing grin on his lips.

"Yeah, we should."

Alfred grins too, feels his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"And then I can find out what your kisses really taste like."


	2. November 2nd

**AUTHOR: Lukas**

**2nd of November, 2014**

Arthur shivered, hurrying down the street. The rain had come suddenly, as it always did in England, and it was Arthur's own fault for deciding not to bring his umbrella to work that morning.

The blonde cursed, and huddled under a roof ledge, soaked right through. Looking down the street, he couldn't spot any cabs and cursed again. Just his luck.

Dipping his head, he took a deep breath in an effort to quell any tears that threatened to fall. It had not been a good day.

He had woken up on the wrong side of the bed that morning, his job had been stressful, and his co workers had thought it a great day to pick on the irritable blonde.

Taking in another breath, he held his head in his hands, leaning against the side of the building.

Suddenly the rain wasn't there anymore. Snapping his neck up, he looked at the taller blonde who was grinning and holding an umbrella over Arthur's head.

"You're getting soaked, you git!" Arthur scowled and snapped at the younger man, who was quickly getting wet, his now dark blonde hair sticking to his forehead. A strand seemed determined to stand above the rest but eventually succumbed to the rain, flattening down.

"Ha! Yeah, no matter what I do with it, it always sticks up!" The blonde grinned, all child-like and sunny, and Arthur found himself blushing.

"You're American...?" The Brit asked, confused as to why this random American was shielding Arthur from the rain while allowing himself to get wet.

"Yeah!" He reached out; his hands warm, even through the leather gloves he was wearing. He took Arthur's hand and pressed the handle of the umbrella into it.

Suddenly he paused, and leaned toward the Brit. "Whoa! Your eyebrows are really thick!"

Arthur sputtered, highly offended.

Then there were lips against his, and before he knew it, he was kissing this American he'd just met.

The younger man pulled away, and Arthur opened his eyes slowly, green meeting blue. The American smiled, and without breaking eye contact, pulled something out of his pocket. Arthur flushed, feeling laid bare under the other man's gaze.

"My name's Alfred and you should call me!" The man grinned, breaking the spell as he grabbed the Brit's arm again and scrawled out a number.

Alfred hesitated before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the blushing Brit's cheek before he turned and jogged off.

Arthur stood for a second with his mouth hanging open, a blush on his cheeks. "Y-you can't just kiss random people in the street! You incomprehensible sod! You can't just..." The blushing blonde watched the other go, a hand coming to touch his lips.

Arthur smiled lightly, clutching the umbrella. Maybe today hadn't been so bad after all...


	3. November 3rd

**AUTHOR: hoshiko2**

**3rd of November, 2014**

America poked his head around into the bedroom, grinning widely. England, who had been reading, glanced up. A slow, sly smile spread across his lips. He continued to read, or at least, pretended to in order to ignore the beaming American.

"Found you!"

England licked his finger, and then flipped a page of his book. "Looking for me, were you?"

America ran into the room, and then jumped onto the bed at full force. England grunted as if annoyed by this. His smile, though, had to be held back by his teeth. America shifted up to England's shoulder. Then, he pushed his face into the crook of England's neck, effectively disturbing the man's arms until he dropped his book to his lap. America chuckled at England's agitated sigh. England wound one arm around America's back.

"America, can I help you with something?"

America hummed as if in thought. He was still smiling broadly. "Um…nope. I just want to cuddle with you."

"Ah." England picked up his book with his free hand to continue reading. The hand that was around America's back carded up into America's blond hair.

For a time they were quiet. England reveled in the fact they could be this comfortable together; just enjoying the solitude with one another. And, with the holidays just starting, England worried that it would be stressful, or that they'd argue often. However, their first real holiday together was going along surprisingly well. They had cooked the Thanksgiving meal together, although America would not release his turkey baking job to England, and then spent the rest of the day enjoying time together talking and watching (American) football and holiday movies. After dinner they had fallen asleep in each other's arms in front of America's fireplace, only to wake up a few hours later in an awkward tangle of limbs. They eventually slugged their way up to America's bed and passed out again. All in all, it had been a very quiet, but memorable day.

A sense of peace settled into England's bones.

"Did you enjoy your Thanksgiving?" England asked softly. He looked down at America to see the man had a childish glow to him with his smile and eyes closed.

"Mm hm," America replied. He nuzzled his face closer to England's neck, but stopped when his glasses pushed into his face. He took them off, holding them to his chest, and then put his face back against England's neck. "Did you?"

England opened his mouth to reply, but then hesitated. Then, "I don't know how you Americans eat so much. Here in England, we _do_ eat quite a lot around the Christmas holiday season, but it's nothing compared to Thanksgiving."

"The trick is to pace yourself." America cracked open an eye and held up a finger. "You don't eat all day, and then eat it all at dinner to make up for it. But you don't just inhale it all at once. You gotta pace then too. A little bit of turkey, some cranberry, some stuffing with potatoes. Or, just have some sweet yams alone and then some stuffing. And then some more turkey. You know? Gotta keep a good pace to work it and not fool your stomach into thinking you're full or something."

"I'll keep that in mind for next year." America closed his eye and smiled until his teeth showed. England smiled knowing America couldn't see him. He moved his fingers from America's hair down to the base of his neck where he massaged gently. America hummed in appreciation.

"Next year, huh? That's nice to hear…"

England said nothing. He pushed his face back into his novel. The tips of his ears red.

"You know, I'll have to come back next weekend."

"Oh?" England pretended not to sound too excited by this. "Why's that?"

"Well, I gotta help you set up for Christmas."

England groaned. "Really?"

"Yeah really!" America laughed. He kissed at England's collar bone. "Sheesh. Come on now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn't there to help you decorate for the holidays?"

"Well… Thank you…" England didn't even bring up whether or not America would come and stay with him for the Christmas and New Year's holiday, but something told him America would. Of course he would.

"I'm so glad to have you," America said suddenly.

"What're you spouting off now?" England scoffed. America's eyes were still closed, but England pushed his book until it bent his nose.

"I just am because I'm the only one who gets to love you like I do." America hugged England around his waist, laughing to himself.

"Shush now, you."


	4. November 4th

**AUTHOR: Zeplerfer**

**4th of October, 2014 **

"Okay, I've got popcorn and chips and guacamole and plenty of soda, so we should be good for the night," America explained, grinning as he showed off the smorgasbord he had stockpiled near his gigantic television. He didn't understand why other countries complained about his food. It was all so delicious!

England gave the food a wary look. "Little early for the Super Bowl, isn't it?"

"Way too early," America agreed. "Guess again!"

"Hmm... I recall a ghastly amount of junk food when we marathoned Lord of the Rings."

"Yeah, that was a _awesome_ week." America smiled fondly. "Man, we should do the original Star Wars trilogy sometimes."

England crossed his arms. "Not until you explain why the bad guys have _my_ accent."

"Uh..." Instead of discussing the whole empire/rebellion analogy, America wisely chose that moment to change the subject. "Here. Let me give you a hint!"

He proudly pointed to the patriotic "I Voted" sticker on his chest. He would have covered his t-shirt in "I Voted" stickers but the poll workers had shooed him away when he tried to steal the entire roll of stickers. America loved those little stickers. Not only did it make him look extra patriotic, it had also gotten him free fries at his favorite burger joint. And was there anything more patriotic than free fries? That was a rhetorical question, because the answer was obviously _no_.

"Ohh... you want to watch your election returns." England sighed as he sank into America's plush couch. He looked tired after his long flight. "I suppose an hour or two of the news wouldn't hurt."

"Heck, yeah!" America plopped down next to him and wrapped an arm around his boyfriend. "I can't wait to see who gets control of the Senate."

England glanced at the clock and the pile of food. "Why do I have the sinking suspicion that this is going to take more than a couple of hours."

America grinned sheepishly. "Well, Alaska's got an important senate race and their polls don't close until 1am our time."

He felt England tense. "You're planning to stay up until one in the morning?"

"Oh no." America laughed. "That's just when the polls close. They'll need hours to actually count the votes after that. Alaska's a big state, you know."

"You could just wake up tomorrow and read the papers."

"But England, you're always telling me not to put off till tomorrow what I can do today!"

"The one time you actually listen to me," England muttered under his breath. "Well, stay up as late as you want, but I'm going to bed at ten."

Hoping that England would change his mind, America made sure to hand him plenty of delicious snacks as they flipped between news channels, waiting for the anchors to start calling races. England complained about the junk food, as usual, though he ate it anyway. Maybe it was unfair of America to expect his English boyfriend to watch election returns, but he just couldn't hold in his excitement! As America proudly watched results begin to scroll across the television screen, he chattered excitedly about all of the important races.

"Oh, look, they legalized weed in the District." America laughed. "I can't wait to see what Congress thinks about that."

"They'll probably think their nation has gone to pot," England teased.

"Hey! It was the sixties. Everyone was doing it!"

America quickly changed the channel and moved on to the next race, watching as results began to pour in from his Midwestern states. One downside to having so many different time zones was waiting for the polls to close out west.

"Wow, check out Kansas. I did _not_ see that coming."

Caught up in the excitement of Election Day, America didn't immediately notice that England had stopped providing snarky commentary. After a few minutes, he glanced over and smiled when he saw his boyfriend slumped against the sofa with his mouth hanging open. He felt a warm feeling of contentment fill his body.

"It's not even nine yet, old man," he said fondly. To be fair, it was five hours later in England and his boyfriend was clearly exhausted from his transatlantic flight. Expecting him to stay up late for election returns hadn't been America's best plan.

America turned down the television volume and pulled the sleeping Englishman closer. He smiled when he felt the warm weight of England's head come to rest on his shoulder. England mumbled sleepily and snuggled into his side. Despite his sometimes grouchy demeanor, the English nation acted like a cuddly teddy bear in his sleep. America was tempted to keep watching the television with England curled up at his side, but sleeping upright would leave England grumbling about his stiff neck in the morning.

After glancing up at the screen and then looking down at his snoozing boyfriend, America made a decision. He turned off the television and gently shook England awake.

"Is it over?" England asked drowsily.

"Nah." America replied as they climbed together up the steps and tumbled into his king-size bed. He pulled England closer and reveled in the warmth. "But why put off cuddling till tomorrow night when I can do it tonight?"

He felt England smile and relax in his arms as the Englishman drifted back into sleep. When he was sure that England was deeply asleep, America pulled out his phone and checked the election coverage. When it came to a choice between giving his boyfriend a good night's sleep and watching election results, he preferred to have both.


	5. November 5th

**AUTHOR: Alfred-senpai**

**5th of November, 2014 - Bonfire Toffee**

"I must warn you, Bonfire Night is quite, well… unusual," Arthur had told him, rather cryptically, the previous day. Thinking about it, Alfred was more than accustomed to the Englishman's equivocal way of speaking and should have mulled over the words a little longer. Maybe then he could have ducked out this so called _Bonfire Night_ which, so far, had entailed standing in sludgy turf in the cutting cold and sticky rain, watching screeching fireworks and an effigy of Guy Fawkes being eaten away by fire. The last part was pretty disturbing.

Alfred could concede that, yes, a guy in a feathery hat trying and failing to blow up some government building was pretty cool. Back then. Nowadays, Alfred was convinced that the Brits only continued to celebrate the fifth of November so they could sate their deep-seated masochistic tendencies. Glancing around, there didn't seem to be a single soul enjoying themselves. Then again, the indigenous people of England weren't exactly the most expressive. _Stiff upper lip_ and all that.

Especially with Arthur. Alfred never knew which way the wind was blowing with Arthur. Was he angry or was he shy? Did he _like_ Alfred or did he want to hit Alfred on the head with a blunt object? Alfred had no idea.

A violent shiver wracked Alfred's body. The cold was rapidly inching itself towards extremities that Alfred would much rather keep at body temperature.

He surreptitiously eyed Arthur. The slight Briton was bundled up in a mossy-green ski jacket, his chin nestled into a woollen scarf that obscured most of his face. Even so, Alfred could watch the firework show, smoky and erratic, in Arthur's pupils. Arthur caught him staring.

Alfred coughed awkwardly into cupped hands and pretended to resume watching the fireworks. One of them, white in colour, burst apart with so much force it seemed like it had torn the sky open.

"Alfred," Arthur's voice rang out, sharp and soft all at once. "Do you want to try some?"

In the smaller man's glove-covered hand was a small gathering of, what appeared to be, congealed tar on wax paper.

"The _hell_ is that?" Alfred regarded it like a hostile alien entity.

Arthur made a small scoffing sound of disapproval. "It's treacle toffee, or bonfire toffee. It tastes nice." Alfred figured this was another one of Arthur's attempts to poison him with traditional English _cuisine_. Alfred was a firm believer that it could only be called cuisine if it was edible. "Just sodding take one!"

"Okay, okay! Jeez."

Taking one turned out to be a difficult task as the sticky sweet had melded into one but Alfred eventually managed to tug a square free and nearly broke his teeth when he tried chewing on it.

"Don't chew it, you idiot!" Arthur admonished. He was probably frowning; Alfred couldn't see much of his face. His nose had pinked with the cold though, that was pretty cute.

Alfred tested out sucking on the sweet when he noticed Arthur was watching him expectantly. "Well?"

_It's actually pretty good._

"It's gross," Alfred lied, pulling a face. Arthur rolled his eyes and shoved the rest of the toffee into Alfred's hand.

"There's no pleasing you, is there?" the smaller man grumbled. "Here, hold this. I'll go and get us some sparklers."

The Englishman reappeared ten minutes later bearing an unlit sparkler in each hand, Alfred was so preoccupied with eating toffee that he didn't notice Arthur return until he felt the smaller man's eyes on him.

"_Whaph_?" Alfred said inelegantly around a mouthful of sugar.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "The toffee can't be that gross since you've eaten bloody half of it."

Alfred looked away guiltily, having been caught red-handed. He wrapped the toffee in the paper and pushed it into his pocket. "Yeah, well, you took forever and I got bored."

"Of course," Arthur said sarcastically. He motioned for Alfred to take the sparklers then pulled a lighter from somewhere within his coat.

The thickness of his gloves made it impossible to flick the lighter and Arthur ended up dropping it altogether.

"Bollocks."

"I'll get it."

Alfred handed the sparklers back to Arthur and pulled his gloves off with his teeth before stuffing them into his other pocket. He picked up the lighter and, unthinkingly, wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist and brought him closer. Alfred didn't hear the small catch of breath; he was too busy trying to ignite the sparklers.

Both of the sticks burst into life simultaneously, golden, star-shaped sparks bouncing in every direction. Alfred smiled victoriously.

"Woohoo!"

It was only when he attempted to take one from Arthur, and the man's hand wouldn't budge, that Alfred realised how close they were.

Alfred's heart thudded and he didn't feel nearly as cold anymore.

_Screw it_, Alfred thought, _I'm gonna kiss him_. If Arthur didn't want to be kissed, he'd _definitely_ let Alfred know about it. Alfred might as well put himself out there and hope for the best.

_He looks like he wants to be kissed_, Alfred observed optimistically.

Squeezing his hand against Arthur's waist, Alfred encouraged the smaller man to come closer and Arthur hesitantly obliged. Taking a deep breath and ignoring his hammering pulse, Alfred gently pushed Arthur's scarf out of the way and he leant down until their noses almost bumped together.

Arthur remained stone-still and Alfred, couldn't for life of him, read the man's wide, evergreen eyes. In a moment blind panic and mortification, Alfred began pulling away until Arthur pushed himself on to his toes to reach Alfred and their lips met clumsily.

After some embarrassed laughter and realignment, they finally shared their first kiss, tinged by the taste of treacle toffee.

"What took you so long?" Arthur whispered, his breath tickling Alfred's lips.

"You didn't exactly make it obvious," Alfred replied, grinning. "I promise it won't take so long next time." He hugged Arthur closer to him, moving in for a second kiss. Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck. "Uh, Artie…"

"What?"

"Do you mind letting go of the sparklers? I really don't want to end up like Guy Fawkes over there," Alfred said, taking a cursory glance at the blazing bonfire where the remains of the effigy could barely be distinguished.

Arthur laughed and released the sparklers. "What do you think of Bonfire Night then?"

"Best night ever."


	6. November 6th

**AUTHOR: Bosbie**

**6th of November, 2014**

"Alfred," Arthur says through gritted teeth, his grip on the steering wheel tightening, "Please shut the fuck up."

"But—" Alfred winces when Arthur glares at him, but he continues anyways. "You don't understand. Its kind of, you know, my _job_ to protect you. It's literally in my job description; I get paid to prevent you from dying. So please, let me drive. It's common knowledge you can't drive for shit."

"I'm not some— spoiled _child_ that can't care for himself," Arthur says, ignoring the _um, yes you are_ Alfred says under his breath. "I graduated high school as class valedictorian. I've been accepted into Oxford. I speak three languages. I beat the queen at a game of chess when I was four. Don't treat me like I'm stupid, especially since _you_ dropped out of high school during junior year."

"Hey," says Alfred, offended, and Arthur realizes what he said and immediately apologizes. They both know how touchy a subject Alfred's lack of education is for him. "Nah, it's okay, don't worry about it. Just. Let me drive. This car is worth more than what I earn in five years."

Arthur snorts. "I'm sure my parents pay you more than that to be my personal butler. ("BODYGUARD," corrects Alfred, but Arthur ignores him. He does that a lot.) Anyways, I'll have you know that I am a very competent driver. I passed my driver's test. I earned my license. _Without_ bribery. I assure you, me being behind the wheel shouldn't be considered a safety hazard."

"I seriously doubt that," Alfred mutters, and Arthur throws a box of tissues from the glove compartment at Alfred's head. "Ow. Okay, whatever. We're just driving to grocery store to get some eggs. That's, like, a ten-minute drive from here. Even you can't screw this up. Let's just hope you don't cause a traffic jam on the way there."

"I appreciate the confidence you have in me," Arthur says sarcastically as he reverses out of his garage, onto the driveway.

Three hours later, Alfred and Arthur find themselves sitting side by side in a detainment cell ten miles away from the grocery store, arrested for suspected drunk driving and assaulting a police officer.

"I can't believe it," Alfred says incredulously, "you're so fucking bad at driving you tricked the police into thinking you're drunk."

"I haven't even drank anything alcoholic since last week." Arthur stands and begins shaking and banging on the bars of the detainment cell. "Let us _out_, you sons of bitches have just arrested innocent men! I demand to see my lawyer."

"You kicked the policeman in the balls and called him a 'homophobic cocksucker' after insulting his mother," reminds Alfred. "I'm surprised we didn't immediately get a court sentence."

"Tell that guy to shut up," one of the police officers on duty says to the other.

"Hey. Shut up," his police friend tells Arthur.

"Oh my god," Arthur says, "I can't believe that you pieces of shits are supposed to be the protectors of the people."

"Um, guys," pipes up another police officer, "isn't that Arthur Kirkland?"

"You mean the son of that one guy who owns that huge car company? No way."

"Actually," Arthur says.

"Shouldn't you guys know already?" Alfred interjects. "I mean, we gave you our background information. And we've been sitting here for the past, like, two hours."

"Holy shit, he _is_ Arthur Kirkland," the first police officer realizes. "I heard his dad is richer than Bill Gates."

"And he has this really weird thing with firing people that don't even work for him," Alfred adds.

"Get these guys out of here." The police officer grabs the keys and begins to unlock Alfred and Arthur's cell. "I need this job; I have a husband and kid to feed."

"You people disgust me and we as a nation deserve a better police force," Arthur says.

"Arthur," Alfred says, still sitting in his corner of the detainment cell, "Please shut the fuck up."

* * *

><p>"In the end, we got the eggs," Arthur says as he hoists the grocery bags on top of the kitchen counter. "I consider that an accomplishment.<p>

"I think I have a criminal record now," Alfred points out.

"Nonsense," Arthur scoffs, "those poor excuses of police officers are too scared of my last name to document anything that happened in the last five hours."

Alfred shakes his head, a fond look on his face. "The things I put up with for you."

Arthur smiles at him cheekily, his eyes blazing with a fierceness Alfred has grown to love. "You love it."

Alfred can't help but be both fascinated and charmed. "Yeah," he agrees, reaching for Arthur's hand, "I guess I do."


	7. November 7th

**ARTIST: april-cherie-sprinkles (Art is available on the _365daysofusuk_ tumblr)**

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**7th of November, 2014 - Teach me how to dance**

Arthur Kirkland was your usual Brit. Blond hair, green eyes, he had an accent and he had really big eyebrows, and was really polite.

He attended high school, he had friends and he was invited to parties on weekends. The parties were good, only problem was that Arthur didn't enjoy these parties as much as his friends.

Why? Parties always started with talking and then they ate food and went to dance. Where was the problem? In the dancing part. Arthur's friends loved dancing, but he never liked it that much.

"Why do we move our hands like this?" "I don't think I'll be able to move like that" "Don't look at me I know I don't dance very well" "..Twerk, what, I can't do it" or "I hate this song" Where thoughts Arthur often had in his head.

His friends would try to make him dance, and Arthur would dance and enjoy it for a moment, but Arthur being himself would then notice how everyone always danced with someone even if they weren't that close to each other.

So Arthur was alone in this.

"Maybe it's just me and I'm exaggerating" he always said "Sorry guys, I'll go for a drink"

"I'll go with you" One of Arthur's friend said. He was taller than Arthur, had blue eyes, blond hair, wore glasses, and had a characteristic american accent. His name was Alfred.

With their drinks on hand, they sat on a table and talked for a while. But time passed and Arthur realised that maybe Alfred wanted to go and dance again, so he excused himself and announced he was going home.

"But wait Artiiiieee it's still early"

"I know but I.. mum wanted me to go early"

"Arthur you said your parents were on London for a business trip, and that you're staying with your brothers" Alfred had an accusative look on his face that made Arthur nervous. So he decided he would tell Alfred the truth.

"Okay Alfred, look." he paused and took a big breath "I know dancing seems really fun, but for some reason I can't enjoy it how you all do, and I don't know why. Maybe I'm exaggerating and it is just that I'm stupid, but since now dancing is the main fun on parties I get bored and.. please don't think bad of me"

"Okay"

He said okay. Alfred said okay. Arthur expected him to laugh and or to be angry since he did not think it was fun, but Alfred was really his friend, one of his closest, he was happy the american understood.

"Thank you Alfred, good bye" but Alfred grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"I said Okay, but if you don't like it, I'll just teach you how to!" he said this while smiling and that made Arthur feel all funny inside.

"No, don't mind it. It isn't your problem"

"Arthur, you're my friend. A friend's problem is also my problem. So an Arthur's problem is also an Alfred's problem"

This was nonsense, but it made Arthur happy. So he said yes and Alfred dragged him to the dance floor.

"Now now Arhur just listen to the song"

"Why?" the stereo was loud enough and he knew the song.

"Shh, silence Artiebrows just listen"

"...Now what?"

"Do you like this song?"

"Yes, not one of my favourites but still one of my likes"

"Okay, so now just dance"

What.

"Alfred, that is the bloody problem, I don't know how to without screwing it!"

Alfred shook his head

"That's the problem. You worry about what others think about you, even if you don't talk to them, instead of just knowing how to have fun. So as a hero I'll help you!" and this made Arthur smile.

"Just look at me and don't mind the others, try to move and don't worry if you don't know how to"

"Thank you"

More parties happened, but Alfred never left Arthur dance alone. The brit was thankful for that, but wondered if Alfred was bored sometimes or if he wanted to dance with someone else instead of the boring brit.

But even if Arthur said Alfred was free to leave him alone and go with someone he wanted to be with, the american said "There's no one I want to dance with other than you, Arthur, don't worry" and flash a smile.

Sometimes Arthur heard people laughing and pointing at him but Alfred will act like he also didn't know how to and while doing that, glare at those who laughed, like an angry puppy.

But everything couldn't be always that perfect and sadly for Arthur, he started to feel something for Alfred. "He would never like me" "He is going to hate me" and "I don't want to lose our friendship" were thoughts that always tortured Arthur. So he decided to stop dancing.

But that didn't work and Alfred now followed him asking "What happened?" This continued in every party they had now and in a desperate attempt to stop his feelings, he decided to stop going to parties.

The first weekend nothing happened, but on the second Alfred appeared on his door.

"What are you doing here!?"

"I've come to see my friend, Arthur" Yes friend, only friend.

"No, go and enjoy the party, I'll stay"

"Why Arthur, do you still hate dancing?"

He shook his head. If he knew maybe it was going to be easier to leave him alone. He could react bad and leave him. Of course that would crush his heart but Alfred would be free.

He took a breath and said "Alfred, I'm sorry, but I think I like you more than a friend."

"So?"

"What?! Won't you hate me now and be grossed?!"

"Arthur" he smiled a little "Didn't I say there's no one I want to dance with other than you?"

"So you don't hate me?"

"No silly, I like you too"

And everything was good. Arthur said they could go to the party, but Alfred said watching movies together was more fun. And so, they spent their Friday night like that.


	8. November 8th

**AUTHOR: snowyfoxpaws**

**8th of November, 2014 - Spark**

"America, do you think I'm unattractive?"

The question took the nation by surprise, mostly because it had come out of seemingly nowhere. America gaped before he had the mind to close his mouth, his teeth pinching the edge of his lip as he was flooded with feelings. England looked small and strange and distressed, brows quirked, the two of them the only ones currently occupying the break room. They weren't really friends, just sort of allies, so he had no idea what he was supposed to say. But England looked worried and the question hinged so much so on the other nation's self-esteem that he couldn't help but feel a very real twist in his chest.

America exhaled a breath.

"Um, I guess so. You know, in an... English sort of way..." He said, trailing off vaguely, his reassurance built on nothing more than the distant notion that he was supposed to be evaluating the man's appearance right now and that was short-circuiting his brain.

England's expression shifted from fleeting insecurity to one of resignation. "Oh..." He said, interpreting what most probably would have from that statement-a discrete 'yeah, you kind of are unattractive, but I don't want to say it directly'.

And then the man just walked away, tea in hand, looking like he'd lost some kind of internal battle.

America didn't know what to think.

It had started as just an innocent little question and one he really should have forgotten about. England quickly went back to normal, arguing with France and picking at China and making snide remarks towards Spain. America should have let the whole thing go.

But he just couldn't because it made him realize that England had come along way since they'd last been close.

Before, he had been so arrogant that a question like that would have been scoffed away. Who cared about attraction if you had an iron grip on the world? Power was sexy, right? So even if there were doubts, he could compensate.

Yet now there was none of that. Yeah, sure, England liked to occasionally remind the world that, at one point or another, he'd ruled over a good lot of them, although as more and more time passed by he only really resorted to that if goaded. But it didn't seem like there was any real pride behind it anymore. He just said it because everyone expected him to.

And when America noticed this it began to bother him.

England wasn't the same.

England wanted to be _liked_.

The more America thought about it, the more it made sense. He'd changed, but his history would always be what it was. He wanted friends, but he had few redeeming qualities personality-wise. He was stubborn and ill-tempered and quick to anger and belligerent and defensive and as prickly as a porcupine and-

-and he was _unhappy_.

So America decided to sit by him at the next meeting.

There were no assigned seats for this conference so he'd just surveyed the table before plopping down into the chair next to everyone's favourite sourpuss, settling in as scrutinizing eyes studied him, clearly wondering why he would chose _that _seat when so many others were available.

America just looked up at him, grinned, and said, "Hey, you don't mind if I sit here, right?"

To his surprise, England flushed red at the question. "I... suppose not." He mumbled, appearing determined to ignore him now, as though this anomaly was too complicated for him to want to try to understand.

It was such a little thing.

A year later he asked the man out to lunch during another meeting. England had leveled him with suspicion, saying, "You're just going to that god awful fast food restaurant, aren't you?"

America had laughed, "You can pick where we eat if you want."

The man's eyes widened at that, green flecked with a glimmering sheen that he often didn't see when it was always hidden beneath a scowl. Then they narrowed again as England countered with, "What is this about?"

He rolled his eyes. "Food? Now, c'mon, let's go! I'm starved."

It was really a tiny thing. Not much effort at all.

"America, I'm afraid my hotel has overbooked. Do you have any recommendations for an alternate location?"

"Dude, just come stay at my house! It'd be no problem!"

Such small, effortless acts.

"What is this?"

"It's a Christmas present. You don't want it?"

"Well, I don't know..."

"Hey, don't be a scrooge! Just take it!"

And yet, bit by bit, it all added up, like quarters filling up a jar for a rainy day.

"Is this really necessary, America?"

"Hey, you sounded like you were dying on the phone. It's just chicken soup! I figured if you made it yourself you'd get food poisoning too and I wouldn't wish that on anyone!"

"Hey!"

How had it all come to this? When had it happened? America wasn't even sure himself. Before he knew it, his heart would skip in his chest at the sound of that cutely accented voice, his palms would sweat when they walked too close to one another, and his emotions would swell whenever he managed to fish up a little smile or a kind word.

On that first day, he hadn't found England unattractive.

In fact, quite the opposite.

And he'd had no idea how to cope with the fact that he never wanted to see such a sad, crushed look on the other man's face ever again. It had ignited something inside of him. He wanted to see him smile and laugh. _He wanted nothing more than to make him happy._

Now, chests flush, lips heated, limbs tangled, there was no going back.

Like a moth to a flame, he was caught.

America was irrevocably in love with England.


	9. November 9th

**AUTHOR: jedishampoo**

**9th of November, 2014 - Don't Ask Polly**

It's something you've never done in London, so it'll be, like, educational. Fun! You won't let England scare you out of it, no way, because he's just England. He's right there beside you, wearing a wool peacoat and scowling under his thatchy-straw hair that looks stiff and gelled but isn't. You know it's actually really soft.

The sun is just waning past twilight when you exit Aldgate East station, but the city lights are bright. Whitechapel these days is filled not with unsolved legends but with people and honking cars and sharp-edged, glass-fronted modern buildings, and the paved streets are lined with fresh parking stripes and gleaming bollards.

Besides, you're with a tour group, and the guide is wearing a saucy bowler and speaking with a forced Cockney accent that makes England wince.

But as you cross the high street and turn down a cobblestoned alley, you realize that your group is gone, the saucy Cockney has vanished. It's suddenly deepest night like the sun was snuffed out long ago, and everything is smothered with a smoky fog that's thick in your lungs like coal-dust.

You're nervous but you follow England as he walks slowly through alternating darkness and pools of greasy yellow light that ooze from old-fashioned gas lamps. You hear muffled, rowdy laughter coming from somewhere, and the crackling of November-dead leaves as they tumble halfheartedly past. The click, click of England's shoes on the cobblestones. The whisper of the fog against your ear.

"W— wow, you guys do this Jack the Ripper stuff up all authentic," you say in a voice that isn't shaky. Not at all.

"This is extraordinary," England breathes, his voice so full of wonder that you gape at him, but he's not looking at you. His eyes are narrowed as he stares at something down the alley, something you can't see. And for just a moment you can imagine the outline of a high-crowned beaver hat perched on his head, the shadowed swirl of black capes about his body.

A pale, staggering shape looms out of the fog. Your heart stutters until you see it's just a woman, but as she nears, you see she's … not right. She has no color at all. She's in black and white and is grainy around the edges, like an apparition from an old, wrinkled photograph.

"Oi, likely ladssh," she slurs at you in a voice filled with gravel and gin. "Needsh a place to sleep. Oi'll do yer both fer sixpence."

There are weird dark spatters on her dress. When she gets close enough to look up at you, you see jagged edges of skin that used to be sealed, that used to cover her neck.

"Ughm," you gargle. She frowns at you and looks at England.

"Oh, sh'you, sir."

England grabs your hand and squeezes, hard. You feel better for a second, even though you know with sudden certainty what she is.

"I came down here," England says to her thickly, as if through a closed throat. "Walked the streets. Always too early or too late."

"As may be." She looks at you again with narrowed eyes, peering inside your head like she knows what you are, too. "He's the reason, then. Wunnert why I were woke up."

"What rea—?" you begin, but England cuts you off.

"Can you tell me?" he croaks at her, harsh, hopeful, and you realize this isn't a lark or a legend for him. He still feels it, still wants to know, and you'd never realized.

The — the woman scratches at what was left of her throat. "Go asks Mary. Let Polly rest, for love of all thash holy."

And she's gone, fading back into the swirls of fog. Only then does your heart start beating again, thumping so hard it makes you lightheaded. England looks up at you with wide eyes.

"Spitalfields," he says.

He's still clasping your hand, his fingers warm against your icy ones. You can't believe he's suggesting this. "But. she's a — she's a—" you begin.

"I don't know how you brought this, but you did," England whispers.

"I didn't," you say, and look away from England's pleading gaze but there's only the dark night and the whispering of the fog.

Then England starts running, pulling you along, and his cloak that isn't there whips through the black eddies of the past, flaps against your blue-jeaned thighs. You don't want to go but you don't want to let go, either, and so you run down alleys and around corners and through the fog and try to ignore the city that doesn't belong there anymore. The joke's gone too far, haha, but it's not a joke, is it? England is running with panicked desperation, croaking out "I need you, I need you with me, it'll be all right," over and over.

He drags you through a splintered doorway and pounds up creaking, narrow steps and you lose your grip on him for a second but he snatches you back, keeps you close with his warm hand and excited gaze. You stumble into a room devoid of color, a moving photograph of torn curtains and dripping black.

There's a bed, and on the bed is a body. It used to be a woman.

"Mary Kelley," England croaks. "We know what happened to you. What happened to him?"

The shape that used to be a woman lurches off the bed. Her limbs move crookedly, as if hanging from threads being worked by a drunken puppeteer. Her torso is gaping, empty. Her face has been ruined by a six- to eight-inch knife.

"America," she gurgles and reels towards you and there's nowhere to run, only a wall behind you.

"How does she know my name?" you cry, but the ghost stumbles into you — not against you but into you, your heart, colder than November, damper than fog, full of answers to questions you didn't ask. Your legs give way and you slide down the wall and drip to the floor like congealed blood.

England kneels and holds you close. "Not your name. A place. DNA, my arse. I'm sorry," he croons, and you can feel the brush of his soft hair against your cheek as you die of freaking fright. What a stupid way to go.


	10. November 10th

**AUTHOR: 01blackcat02**

**6th of November, 2014 - Is This Fair?**

Glancing over his logbook Arthur tripled checked the time steadily ticking away on his old pocket watch.

Twenty-three more minutes.

He shoved the watch back into the inside pocket of his black suit, early as usual for his appointment which was exactly how he preferred.

Walking through the automatic glass sliding doors his nose scrunched at the sterilized smell of cleaners and antiseptics. The large room had white walls and tiled flooring. People were sitting in waiting chairs as the nurses rapidly typed on their computers at the front desk.

None paid attention to Arthur as he made his way passed the rushing nurses and doctors. He walked past patients who slowly shuffled down the brightly lit hallways.

Arthur's strides were long as he briskly marched down one of the many hallways. His black suit a stark contrast to the white walls and lab coats rushing by.

Finally stopping in front of a partially closed room, number 550, Arthur paused to check his watch.

Sixteen minutes left.

Pushing the door open, it creaked as he strolled inside the dimly lit room. Several machines quietly hummed, their long wires intertwining among themselves as they clung to the body lying on the bed. A steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the quiet space.

Taking off his hat he placed it on top of his brief case which he put on the floor. Arthur sat in the vacant chair crossing his legs and pulled out the pocket watch. Rubbing his thumb over the worn out metal, he popped the lid open, watching the second hand steadily moving forward, sure of its purpose, the minute and the hour hands steadily followed at a much slower pace.

Fourteen minutes left, the longest handle said.

The heart monitor continued its constant beep as the girl on the bed breathed in and out.

Snapping the lid closed, Arthur pocketed the watch and pulled out his logbook. Acid green eyed scanned over the profile.

Name: Rena Kane.

Age: ten years old.

Family: none.

Cause of appointment: Admitted into Saint Mary's Hospital last night (xx/xx/xxxx) at 10:48pm after a car accident. Parents killed instantly (note: already collected). The child still alive by the time the emergency crew got on scene. The subject suffered blood loss and several major injuries from the impact. Collection is scheduled for 2:13am.

"Poor thing, she doesn't deserve this."

Flashing his eyes up from the logbook, Arthur frowned at the figure sitting on the bed side.

"It's irrelevant if she deserves it or not." Arthur promptly stated.

The man in front of him sighed and turned to look at him. "But she still has so much to experience." He frowned, blue eyes swimming with regret and sorrow. "Things she'll never know..." The man trailed off looking back at the girl.

Arthur's stomach twisted. "You shouldn't be talking like this, Alfred, you know that it not our place."

The other man didn't respond right away a thoughtful look graced his face framed by his golden hair and the soft light from his halo. Arthur liked to watch Alfred's face whenever they would meet. The soft round contours and the honest open look the angel had would always calm him.

Alfred's white wings twitched in annoyance, his gaze still on the human girl. "What's the point of all this then?" He finally stated, frustratingly gesturing with his arms and wings puffing up. "I mean they are born only to die." The angel's expression softened. "And some go so young…is this really worth it?" He turned his blue eyes at Arthur as if asking for the answer that he knew none of them had.

Arthur turned away, unable to meet Alfred's pleading and questioning look. Instead he looked at the girl and pulled out his watch.

Eight minutes the clock ticked on.

Mastering up his resolve Arthur looked at Alfred's angelic face. "I don't know, but she was scheduled to go today." Then as if realizing how heartless that sounded the reaper quickly added. "I'm sure once she's in heaven she'll get to be with her parents. At least she'll have that."

The angel scowled and narrowed his eyes at the reaper.

"Being stuck in heaven for eternity, only to relive your happiest memories, which, she only had ten years to create and experience. Is that fair?!" The glow of Alfred's halo intensified and his whole body shimmered with golden light.

Arthur's frown deepened, the intense light only mildly annoying his eyes. "I never said it was fair."

He looked at the profile again. The little black book was still sitting open in his lap, holding the names of those that still await their time.

Ten years old was too young to really do anything bad in the world, she'll have a straight lift to heaven. But the angel's words run in his head '_is this fair?'_ He reaped people that have done terrible things in this world, condemned to an eternity of hell, but not all were born bad. As children they had their innocence which they lost as they grew older. Who's to say that she would have been granted such an easy entrance to heaven if she lived to be an old woman?

And who were they to even question this reality? The reaper and the angel were born into their duties. They didn't know anything else outside their given tasks. Arthur himself came out of nothing. Didn't remember anything outside the 'training' where he was shown how to reap souls. But this question kept coming back each time he meet Alfred.

Arthur remembered that time several eons ago when he met this angel. He was bright and full of life and Arthur couldn't help himself. He wanted that light.

Over the years through work they formed a friendship of sorts. Alfred started to confide in the reaper about his doubts and question their existence. Was there something else other than eternity of watching people die? The angel's blue eyes would shimmer, and it was then the reaper begun the question his own existence and purpose.

The loud ticking of the clock brought Arthur out of his thoughts.

Four minutes left.

The machine beeped on.

Rena inhaled, in and exhaled out.

"What if we don't do it?" Alfred suddenly spoke up.

"What?" Arthur almost laughed.

But the angel's pierced gaze pierced into his dormant soul with a determined look.

"You can't be serious." The reaper shook his head. "We have to do our job, Alfred." He firmly stated.

"Or what?" the angel countered.

Arthur didn't know. This particular issue of what happens if souls weren't reaped wasn't in the guide book.

"Alfred," the reaper started patiently, "this is the natural way of existence. A system that needs to be followed. Who knows what will happen if we don't."

The angel rose and marched to the seated reaper. Grabbing each of the armrests he leaned over the seated man. "Exactly. Who knows. Maybe we're just lab rats for someone's experiment? Maybe if we don't take her soul she'll get better and live and grow old." Alfred was glowing brighter with excitement. "Maybe this isn't the only reality." He was smiling as he leaned down to whispers against Arthur's ear. "Maybe we can meet when no one dies."

Arthur's breath hitched. Alfred was nuzzling his neck lightly tracing his warm lips over the exposed skin. The reaper could still see the clock ticking away.

Two minutes.

He cupped the back of Alfred's head, turning his own face and pressed his cold lips against the angel's cheek. Taking a moment to enjoy the warmth radiating from the other man he came to love, Arthur inhaled. Crisp smell, that Arthur identified as the endless sky, and the softness of the feathers surrounded them as Alfred clung to him.

Aware that time was quickly running out, Arthur regrettably slowly dragged this hand against Alfred's chest to push away.

The angel made a noise of protest, but reluctantly allowed the reaper out of his embrace.

Arthur pocketed his book and his watch and stood. He ran his long bony fingers across the angel's face. "Maybe it's possible," Arthur whispered as Alfred's hand came up to grasp his own, holding it tightly. "But I just don't know."

The angel's blue eyes swam with sorrow and longing. Arthur couldn't help but to press one last chaste kiss on those warm.

"Maybe one day we'll be strong enough to find out." The reaper quietly said once he pulled away.

Letting go of his lover, Arthur picked up his brief case and put on his hat. He walked to the bed where the girl was still sleeping. The reaper through of the life she won't ever know and of the life he could only dream about. He leaned over her and brushed her dark long hair away from her face.

Streams of magic, or perhaps a curse as Arthur came to called it, rushed from his fingers into her body. Her heart slowed and she tried to breathe faster. The machines rhythmic beeping became sporadic, to flat line only a few moments later.

Alarm went off and within seconds nurses and doctors rushed in, creating havoc in the small room as they frantically tried to revive her.

Arthur turner and looked at Alfred. The angel was kneeling beside the girl holding her hand. She looked confused and a little scared, but Alfred's calming presence and voice calmed her. Brushed her hair Alfred asked. "Do you want to see your mom and dad?"

She quickly turned and nodded excitingly. Smiling Alfred stood up and looked at Arthur.

The reaper tipped his hat and smiled. "Take care of her."

Turning away he walked back into the white hallways leaving the hospital behind. Looking at his logbook Arthur wondered what the point was.

Was there meaning to their existence? Will they dance in limbo for eternity? Was there even such a thing? And what happens after it ends? Maybe it will be like Alfred said. Maybe they can finally meet someplace where no one dies.

Seventeen minutes remaining.


	11. November 11th

**AUTHR: Kelbora**

**11th of November, 2014 - Eternal Star**

The sea; vast ocean blue filled with life and feared for its infinite mysteries. Her velvet surface rose and fell with temperate breaths, lulling seafaring birds to sleep and granting safe passage to ships that dared to sail. Men, with ambitions as untamed as the mistress herself, journeyed far in search of glory to honor their gods and enrich their coffers. No adventure was too trivial to whet the intrigue of kings or peasants with something to prove, and any vessel with oars was considered suitable for the task.

On this night, one of the grander ships passing over Poseidon's domain was destined for a less than optimistic purpose. It's bow cut a path through the reflection of Nyx's canvas and made the stars dance below his hand skimming over them. Long fingers travelled along the smooth surface, chasing the small specs of light bobbing in the wake, as a salty Aegean breeze combed through his golden hair. Eyes the color of Olympus's fairest skies and skin kissed by his former patron's sun, the young man bore the attributes of his father's visage and embodied the light of life…though now, he was a servant to far darker things. His brand carefully concealed beneath layers of armor, he let his mind wander away from fate and into the eyes of the being surfacing below him – bringing a smile to his face.

"Arthur, I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

Said being, adjusting to breathing air instead of water, shook the residual droplets clinging to his sandy colored hair and scowled. "Don't be so ridiculous. Tis an impossible achievement to forget you, Alfred of Delphi."

The man smiled wider and waited until his hand was accepted to pull the other onto the ship's railing. A bare human torso appeared, followed by the emerald-scaled tail of an elegant aquatic creature. His companion was a true son of Achelous, the river god and father of merfolk, and had made a most precarious journey from the mainland to see him.

Once comfortably situated, the merman took a deep breath of air and exhaled contently, leaning into the current with his hands anchoring him on the rail. "How I've dreamt of living a life sailing above the water…even a mortal life."

Alfred cast his gaze back to the ocean and nostalgically remembered just such a life. Wild, free, with exploits that echoed through the ballads and spoken histories of civilization. Even Olympus still remembered the accolades of his life…even his sire had immortalized his victories and sorrowful end in song. "It is a joy I will never forget."

Arthur turned softened eyes on his companion and comfortingly covered the man's hand with his own. Unlike the people on this voyage, all sleeping below deck, Arthur knew Alfred's story and true purpose here as an agent of Hades. "Which soul are you here for?"

Alfred sighed and rested his arms on the rail. "The king's son, who was told he would merely be overseeing this farce of an expedition. The prince has no idea he's a sacrifice to settle his father's debt over an unsatisfied bargain with Hades."

Arthur remained quiet and nodded his head in understanding. No god took well to oath breakers, especially where life and death was concerned. He didn't need to know the details of whatever deal this king had struck with the lord of the Underworld, as he knew only life could pay for life…meaning this king had asked for some reprieve from mortality in exchange for shortening another's time that would keep things in balance.

"I feel for the prince. I know what it's like to lose your soul in someone else's deal," Alfred added, and Arthur squeezed the hand in his tighter.

Alfred had been born a mortal son of Apollo, the life-loving god of the sun. From childhood to adulthood, Alfred had blazed an existence of reckless abandonment, never stopping for a moment because all of life was an adventure to be had. He'd sailed to every corner of the known world, battled hellish monsters, and braved perils only a demi-god could have ever hoped survived. He had once been able to heal the injured and sick with his voice, and defend the weak with his unparalleled archery. But it was his pure spirit that had earned him his greatest triumph…warming the jaded heart of a merman longing for life beneath the open sky.

Alfred was everything Arthur had ever dreamt of being. Through his gift of storytelling and even sharing an adventure or two together, Arthur felt as though he had lived that dream alongside this precious soul, his personal sun in an otherwise lonely and lightless existence.

Sadly, his sun had set far too soon.

Years ago, when Alfred had returned home for the first time in nearly a decade, an emissary from Sparta had come to the city in search of a divine son of Apollo. Through violent means, this emissary had found Alfred and abducted him, taking him to a temple of Ares where a priest had been waiting for them. Evidently, the gods had gotten into a bloody tiff and a prized son of Ares had been slain, the fault for which had fallen on Apollo. The fight had had nothing to do with Alfred, but the vengeful war god had demanded retribution for the crime and Alfred had been the first child of the sun found. He'd been knelt before a statue of Ares and his blood used to settle the debt.

His father, at least, had mourned his loss; but it had been Arthur who grieved the most.

Given his lineage, the lord of the dead had decided to make use of the soul that had prematurely found it's way to his realm. Alfred had been made an agent of Tartarus, charged with collecting souls to settle debts that kept the flow of souls in balance. Though it was a far better fate than others that might have befallen a demi-god in the afterlife, it was an anguishing occupation for one who, despite all that had happened, still loved life.

Knowing the weight of his friend's torment, Arthur laid his head on the other's shoulder and eventually Alfred's cheek came to rest on him too. "I brought you a gift tonight."

He knew he had Alfred's interest when he could hear the cautious smile in his voice. "Oh? Dare I ask where you're hiding it?"

Arthur chuckled and raised his hand from the rail to out over the sea, letting the cool glow of moonlight reflecting off the water pool in his hand and form his gift. He didn't have to see Alfred's face to know it was lit with that wondrous spark of boyish excitement he always got when witnessing Arthur's magic. It was so pure…and he treasured it.

The spell was complete and in Arthur's hand hung a modest silver necklace with an oval pendant, made of pearl. Alfred hesitated before reaching and letting Arthur place it in his hand. Though he was eager to examine it he made sure to treat it delicately. Knowing his gift would be handled with the reverence it deserved, Arthur raised his head and whispered, "Say my name."

The warrior quirked a brow but obeyed, "Arthur."

The pendant began to glow with the same soft and silvery light that created it, forming a small star in Alfred's hand that left him in awe. It was so beautiful and undiminished by the dark night; it was like holding a piece of heaven. "Arthur…"

"It's easy to forget what the world beyond Tartarus is like, but I…I never want you to forget it or the most beautiful thing about it," Arthur began and felt the burn of tears he fought not to shed. "And that's the light you brought to it."

He knew Alfred's eyes were upon him but he couldn't bear to look back just yet. Losing Alfred had been the hardest experience of his long life and though Alfred would return to this world from time to time…it was still only a matter of time before what made Alfred so special was lost in Tartarus's void. His heart ached thinking about it; the future was so bleak without this beautiful soul to share it with. When he knew he was about to lose the battle with his grief, he felt a soft kiss on his cheek and his breath caught.

Alfred was now resting his head on Arthur's shoulder, holding the still glowing light before them and…happy. They stayed together like that, watching the rosy tips of dawn spread over the sky, until Alfred closed his hand over pendant and used their last moments alone to whisper:

"Thank you for being the best part of life."


	12. November 12th

**AUTHOR: Black Rose Authoress**

**12th of November, 2014**

Arthur hates people. He really fucking hates people.

Like asshole people who park in the handicap spots, leaving him with nowhere to park his van. He's had to crawl out of the passenger's side of his van multiple times because of assholes like that. Or people who stand across the parking lot, clearly see him fall out of his chair, and don't come over to help him. He really really hates those people.

The guy's staring at him and smoking a cigarette while he's struggling in the slush, trying to pull himself into his tipped-over wheelchair.

If he weren't preoccupied with trying to get himself back into his chair, he'd flip the guy off. He probably _will _flip the guy off once he's seated again.

"Fucking winter. Fucking ramps. Fucking…"

"Dude, are you _okay_!?"

Arthur instantly recognises that voice and he feels his stomach sink down into the cold icy water that's currently freezing his fingers. Seriously, out of anybody who had to see him like this, why did it have to be _him_?

Alfred Jones, also known as the guy he's had a hopeless crush on since middle school, crouches down into sight. He has a worried expression on his too-handsome-to-be-legal face. "Are you hurt anywhere? Let me help you…" He stands and Arthur watches as he rights his chair and then seems to notice the asshole across the parking lot. For a moment, Alfred looks like he wants to go over and chew the guy out, but instead it looks like he takes a deep breath and then turns and flashes Arthur a smile that makes his heart flip like a dolphin performing tricks.

"You okay with me helping you up?"

Arthur could be totally suave right now; he could be witty and make a good impression on the guy that he'd been mooning over for forever.

Instead, he tosses his head and crosses his arms over his chest. "Won't be the first time somebody's helped me off my ass."

Alfred actually laughs, while Arthur internally beats himself over the head with a bat, and then moves behind him. "Okay, upsie-daisy!"

He slides his hands under Arthur's armpits and lifts and this is probably the closest Arthur will ever be to his crush, so he should savour every moment.

All he can think, though, is that this is probably the most embarrassing experience of his life and he really wishes that his chair would just sink into the ground with him in it.

Also, Alfred is surprisingly strong. He lifts him back into his chair without seeming to exert any extra energy and then walks to the front and settles his feet into their rests before charming him with another grin. "Your name's Arthur, right? I've seen you around before."

He really shouldn't feel any stupid chest butterflies right now; it's not surprising that Alfred would know his name. He's the only kid in their school in a wheelchair. Still, his traitorous heart ignores common sense and he feels his cheeks flush. "I…" He isn't sure what to say so he finally stammers out a "th—thanks," before he spins his chair back toward his van.

Alfred laughs his stupid obnoxious laugh that always carries down the hallways at school. "No problem! Any hero would help you out!"

Ah, yes, his little hero complex. It was well-known around school. Probably the only reason he'd stopped and helped him. Arthur can't help but feel a tint of bitterness seep into him, like the cold that had seeped through his clothing.

He might as well just go home now and change.

"Um," Except he's interrupted by a clearing throat. He turns his head and sees Alfred rubbing at the back of his head with one hand and—is he blushing? "I—My name's Alfred. I…are you doing anything later today?"

And for a moment, Arthur's pretty sure the cold has caused him to hallucinate. Maybe he's still lying in the middle of the parking lot and all of this is a dream.

He knows he's blushing now. "I—I don't have any specific plans." Besides working on homework, trying not to set the kitchen on fire again while making dinner, and maybe watching some Classic Doctor Who while his roommate was out with his girlfriend-of-the-week.

"Cause there's a basketball game tonight. My buddy's playing and I wondered if you might wanna go…"

The insane part of Arthur's brain unfortunately had control right now, as it blurted out, "Yes!" before he had a chance to actually _think_.

And Alfred beamed in response. "Great! Do you want me to pick you up at like five? We can go to McDonald's and then head over."

This is just too bizarre. Arthur's still half-convinced he's hallucinating. "That's fine. If my chair can fit in your car."

"My bro has a truck, no worries." Alfred grins again and then glances toward the ramp leading into his van. "You need help getting in?"

Definitely not. Although Arthur's half-panicked that he's going to fall again, just to add another helping of mortification. He shakes his head, though, and then rolls himself up the ramp and into the van, thankfully without incident, before turning his head. "I live at 1434 West Hickory Road. Bottom floor. If my roommate answers the door, tell him to piss off."

And he hurriedly closed the door at that, before he could say anything too stupid. For a moment, he just sat there and tried to calm his breathing. Then he turned and glanced out the window.

To see Alfred turn and punch the air victoriously.


	13. November 13th

**AUTHOR: irisoflunadreams**

**13th of November, 2014 - An Unsent Letter**

Dear Arthur,

When I first saw You after my Rebellion, You were different. Gone was the kind man I once knew. You spoke harshly and rarely laughed. I found a man dark and brooding and cynical, like something inside was inexplicably mangled. You used to be so lively, so fun. But, Your light was dimmed.

I believed Your love for me had died, when You and Your troops departed my shores all those years ago. My love was a bayonet in your side, and I know that my betrayal of you cut you to the quick. You would not give me the love I longed for. Even before I rebelled, You didn't give me the affection You once did. You didn't care if all I wanted was your respect. We were barely friends, far from family, and, I no longer held Your attention. You were so cold, and I wanted only warmth. Why didn't I just give up?

The day we met again, after all those years of separation, I was glad to see You strong as You used to be. Still strong, yet grossly overburdened. You barely noticed my nervous attempts at conversation—how hard I tried to impress you. During our informal meeting, I explained my presence in Your lands, even against the policies of my boss, but You didn't seem phased. I fought for You, for us, just for the little time to spend together. You took me drinking. I looked up, and you smiled. You smiled at me! Oh, god, it was beautiful—like sun on dark clouds.

And so, we began our cat and mouse game. I thought at first the best way to help You was either to bed You or befriend You. Bedroom favors were what You seemed to do in other matters of foreign relations. That had never been my forte. But, You and Your boss surprised me and asked me to link with You in a Special Relationship. Of course, I said yes. You were a god to me, even after all that time apart; you survived so much and I wanted to be just like You, and to be with You in that way was more than I ever could have imagined. All I could ever want.

But, and this is not easy to say, it felt so contrived. I almost gave up. There were still days we would fight more than talk. And, You would continue to fight for Him. And, where would I be? Because of our newly established relationship, I fought for Him with You, by Your side, longing for You to notice me, yet again. There were days when You would turn Your back and ignore me. I continued to love You.

It made me so happy, when You smiled, held my hand, sat with me in front of the fire when that was all the warmth there was to be had. It made me hopeful that I had a chance. I knew every moment You looked at me with the bright fire of life in Your eyes. I never gave up. I would like to hope that, long ago during our separation, You never gave up on me, either. And now, years later, times are hard again. But, this time, your heart still flutters. It is mine that sputters. I may smile less than before, but we both still smile. Keep calm and carry on, as you like to say.

You give me hope and reason to keep moving now that darkness surrounds me. You made me promise that before I ever could hurt myself again, I would call you. Before I shut myself off from the world again, I would call upon You. That was when we were just barely friends. That unexpected kindness You gave a betrayer has never left my heart. It has touched me, shaped me, made me a better person.

Hold my hand. I trust only you. Please accept me once again.

You only do I love,

Alfred F. Jones

* * *

><p>England looks up from the crumpled paper in his hands, the broom drops, forgotten at his side. He calls out to Alfred, elbows deep in the kitchen sink washing their dinner dishes, "Alfred, what's the meaning of this?"<p>

America shrugs. "I dunno. What's the meaning of what?"

"This letter?" He brandishes the paper at him.

"What letter?"

"Stop echoing me. It makes you sound like idiot." England pauses, realizing now how that must sound and glances down at the letter. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Alfred. I don't mean to say things like that."

"I'm used to it, Art. What're you talking about?"

"This." He waves the paper in the air again.

America sighs, drys his hands and goes to investigate what has England so troubled.

"What is?" He takes the letter and scans it. His eyes widen and he pales. "Ehheheh. Oh, this old thing? It's some old page from my journal or something. Where, uh. Where did you find this?"

"Don't lie to me, Alfred."

"Lie? Pfft. Why would I do that?"

"This letter. Journal Entry. What ever you want to call it. It has my name on it and some..some rather intense feelings about me."

"I can explain."

"Please do."

"It. Really. It's just some old thing."

"Stop lying to me! This is dated a month ago!"

America cringed and drew away.

"The truth, please, Alfred?"

"Well, the truth. The truth is."

"I'm listening."

"I, uh." He swallows hard. "I love you! And this is not how I wanted to tell you," he mutters, angrily.

"Oh, Alfred." England's heart swells and he draws America close to him again, pulling him into an embrace so that he can kiss his mouth, quickly, long enough to make his meaning clear. America resists. But, England's hug remains firm. "I love you, too. I wish you had told me sooner."


	14. November 14th

**ARTIST: theconfusedartist (Art is available on the **_**365daysofusuk**_** tumblr)**

**AUTHOR: lachokolade**

**14th of November, 2014**

As I got on the plane, I couldn't stop thinking about my past four years.

I had just graduated from university a day ago, and was on my way home to England. I had been excited to graduate, but after it was over, the memories kept flooding in.

I thought of my first day when I was so excited, I arrived to my first class one hour early to find that the teacher was wrapping up his third-year multivariable calculus class. I thought of my roommate Gilbert, who shared countless drunk adventures with. I even thought of Francis, my overly flirtatious art history TA, who took every chance he could to make fun of my "bland" fashion taste and my thick eyebrows.

But the one I thought of the most was Alfred F. Jones, my next door neighbor. We were never particularly close, but we got along well enough to occasionally hang out as friends.

As I thought of him, my heart began to ache. I told myself, "This is because you miss everybody, not just him!" After all, it's not like I even talked to him much while I was there.

But then night after night, I would find myself gazing at the photo that we took together after the graduation ceremony, wishing that I got to know him better.

And that's when I realized that I was in love with Alfred F. Jones, but was too stupid to realize it back then.


	15. November 15th

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**15th of November, 2014 - X Marks the Spot**

"Care for something to drink?" Arthur asked with a casual tone. He gracefully rolled the rum around in his glass, making the ice clink together. The strong taste of the rum would mask the sour taste of the sleeping draught he had poured into the glass earlier.

Alfred looked up from the map and his papers. He removed his glasses with one hand and rubbed his eyes. He gave Arthur a weary smile and accepted the offered rum. "I suppose _one_ glass wouldn't hurt."

"That's the spirit," Arthur agreed. "So... any luck figuring out this little puzzler?" he asked as he set his glass down on the table and stared at the treasure map, hoping it would reveal its secrets. He knew that the compass in Alfred's luggage held the necessary clues, but the American wasn't willing to share. And for good reason; even the naive American could tell that the English con artist couldn't be trusted. After all, Arthur had stolen Alfred's wallet the first time they met. He would have gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for the other thieves.

"No, not yet." Alfred sighed and sipped the rum. He coughed as the alcohol burned the back of his throat. He frowned at the map, nursing his drink in silence. Alfred wasn't good at keeping secrets, so Arthur could tell that he was genuinely puzzled by the map and the compass. Eventually Alfred placed his empty glass next to Arthur's. "I think I have an idea, but it's too early to tell. I should know more by morning."

"I'm sure a good night's sleep will make everything clearer," Arthur suggested.

"But it's still early!" Alfred protested, even as he began to yawn. He stretched his arms and blinked tiredly. "Maybe you're right," he admitted as he stood up, swaying from side to side. Arthur guided him over to his bed, helping him as he began to stumble.

Alfred sat down heavily and pulled the other man with him. He grabbed Arthur's wrist and gave him a strange look. "Hey, do you ever feel... kind of odd?"

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, feigning innocence as he his head to the side. He wondered if he should have added even more sleeping draught to the glass. It was taking Alfred an eternity to fall asleep.

Oblivious to Arthur's plot, Alfred continued to stare thoughtfully into the distance. Finally, he turned and gave Arthur a hopeless shrug. "Like you're not the way you're supposed to be."

Arthur smirked. "No. I tend not to care much what society thinks of me."

"Yeah, I like that about you." Alfred smiled fondly and leaned forward. He stared deeply into Arthur's eyes and blinked dreamily. "I think I _like_ you."

His lips gently brushed against Arthur's, sending a pleasant shock down Arthur's spine. But before they could even begin a _proper_ kiss, the entire weight of Alfred's body slumped against the smaller man. Arthur huffed in disappointment. He had been impatiently waiting for the sleeping draught to take effect and now he found himself wishing that it hadn't. Frowning to himself, he pushed Alfred back onto the bed, guiding the young man's head down to the pillow and lifting his feet up onto the mattress. He took off Alfred's shoes and then wondered why he was wasting time.

As he stole away with the map and the compass, Arthur felt a uncomfortable knot start to form in his gut. He hadn't actually been drinking, so he knew he couldn't blame the alcohol.

Really, it was for the best that he left. Poor sweet Alfred was reminding him of feelings he hadn't felt in years, and a con artist couldn't afford to have a conscience.


	16. November 16th

**Author: Anonymous**

**16th of November, 2014 - Same Old Lang Syne**

Arthur was positive that his heart skipped a beat when he saw his back, that same old romance novel cliché. That same golden hair, those same broad shoulders, and that same relaxed but undoubtedly proud way he carried himself. Positive that it was who he thought he slipped up behind him in the produce section, tapping him on the shoulder and clearing his throat.

When Alfred turned he looked simply confused for a moment before his eyes flew open wide, his grin wide as always. "Arthur?!" He turned to hug him and managed to drop his basket, his groceries spilling and a can of beans landing right on his foot. He yelped, but they ended up laughing as they gathered things up and finished their shopping together with a few words shared.

By the time they both stood outside in the cool air with their bags there was an embarrassed silence as they both tried to come up with what to say, each just as reluctant to leave as the other. "Hey, uh…" Arthur had quickly turned to see what Alfred would say, but his sentence was left unfinished as he just started into the parking lot and waved for Arthur to follow.

They ended up in his car, both with a drink and the heat cranked up as they tried to think of where to start with catching up and stave off the cold outside. So much had been missed. Finally Alfred started with that same way of rambling that Arthur had missed of him. He'd gone to school, gotten himself an alright job; it paid the bills, kept him warm and dry. He started to say he was with someone, but that thought petered off for a moment with only a sheepish smile as explanation, leaving Arthur to wonder if he was or wasn't.

"I've seen your name around," he told Arthur, saying he must be doing well. Arthur said he loved the reactions of his crowds, but the traveling was awful. He told Alfred that the years had been kind on him, his eyes that same lovely blue and while he received a smile in return he wasn't sure if that was doubt or gratitude hiding in those baby blues.

They drank a toast to the days they'd shared, so innocent and full of wild dreams, leaving them blanketed in silence for a time before Alfred looked over. "I've got work," he admitted, "I should probably be going." Arthur, reluctant as he was to leave, nodded and reached for the door. It was best he go anyway before things were spoiled by lingering too long. Before he'd managed to actually get out of the car he was surprised with a kiss, barely a moment to return it before Alfred had leaned back again, his expression hidden by the dim lighting of the car.

Arthur watched him drive off with a sigh, slipping his hands in his jacket pocket as he adjusted the hold on his bag, only to frown as something met his hand. He pulled out a receipt, thinking it would be his own, when instead it was Alfred's. He was confused until he noticed something scrawled on the back. 'Whenever you're in town again' was scrawled hastily, a number below it. He had to wonder when Alfred had had the chance, but he decided not to question that just now. Making his way to his hotel, he carefully tucked the paper in his pocket, knowing he had a call and some plans to make tomorrow.


	17. November 17th

**AUTHOR: gemmawolf**

**17th of November, 2014 - Bus Stop**

"Where's that bloody bus?"

Arthur was soaked through. It was nearing five o'clock, the peak of the evening rush hour, and not one but two buses had failed to show up. He'd been standing at the bus stop, unfortunately without a shelter, for nearing an hour now; forty minutes ago the previously blue sky clouded over with clouds, turning almost black, and it started raining. It didn't let off; the drops grew bigger and faster and sharper.

He'd left his coat at home that morning, opting for a light jacket which he now pulled tighter around his shoulders. It did nothing but absorb more water, his clothes already wet to his skin. There was nothing to do but watch the stream of headlights coming towards him from the distance, crawling through the darkness and rain, tyres sticking against the wet tarmac.

It took him a good few seconds to notice when an umbrella appeared over him. He turned to see another man wrapped up in a snug leather coat, holding the handle of said umbrella. The stranger smiled shyly. "Guess it won't do much good, huh. You're gonna catch your death like that," he said.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, wiping out as much water as he could, sending droplets flying in the process. "Thanks anyway," he sighed. "I've been here almost an hour."

"An hour?" the other man said, eyes wide. They were blue. "You must be freezing!"

Arthur shrugged. "Sod's law: the one day I forget my coat, the heavens open." He spotted a set of familiar headlights coming their way. "But its here now, at last." He stuck his hand out to flag the bus down, fishing his pass from his pocket; thankfully the company had the good sense to laminate them.

But the bus didn't slow down. It rolled past like the rest of the cars, the driver shaking his head apologetically. It was packed from front to back, people crammed in the isle together and pressed against windows, leaving no room for any more passengers. Once he realised what had just happened, and that he'd have to wait out in the pouring rain for at least another twenty minutes, he lost it.

"For fuck sake!" he shouted, kicking the pole that held the sign for the bus stop. He could cry, he really could, but that wouldn't solve anything. He'd walked home before, but not in weather like this, and not while drenched from head to toe. If anything he was simply angry that he'd wasted so much time waiting about _for nothing_ when he could have started walking an hour ago.

"Hey."

He looked back to the stranger; he was removing his heavy coat and handing it to him.

Arthur vigorously shook his head. "No, no I can't," he said, refusing to take it.

"We're heading the same way. Besides, I've got an umbrella. This'll keep you warm. Please."

He could feel himself shivering. It was too late really; he'd started coughing a while ago and knew he'd be coming down with something the next day. But it would still be a relief to feel somewhat warm, or at least block out the wind. Hesitant, he took hold of the coat, more of a jacket really, and shrugged it onto his shoulders. It was still warm from the other's body heat. "Thank you," he said. "Guess we'd better start walking."


	18. November 18th

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**18th of November, 2014 - Sapphires & Emeralds**

Arthur took a shallow breath as he examined the glittering ballroom. Twinkling lights and sparkling gowns filled the room, but his gaze was focused on the gems he saw spread before him like a dazzling jewellery buffet.

Fluttering his eyelashes, Arthur convinced a leering old man to dance with him. His feet glided smoothly across the floor, although his graceful footwork was nothing compared to his skill in liberating the man's cufflinks and rings with him none the wiser. The jewels were safely ensconced in a hidden pocket by the time the music ended and the old man patted Arthur on the rump, thanking 'such a fine young lady' for a wonderful dance.

Hiding his anger, Arthur tittered politely and moved on to find his next target. For once, he was grateful for his short height and slim build. Combined with those natural advantages, a blond wig and a well-padded corset made stealing jewellery _so easy_.

But Arthur wasn't the only one who had seen the potential in the ballroom's abundance of finery and oblivious owners. The sound of someone stepping close behind him made the English thief whirl around. He found himself face to face with a fellow thief. Alfred was dressed handsomely in a fine coat and tails, and he even had the audacity to wink at Arthur as he said, "Good evening... miss. You look lovely tonight."

"Thank you," Arthur replied with a tight-lipped smile.

Alfred's eyes sparkled mischievously. "I've seen how... nimbly... you move on the dance floor. Can I have the pleasure of the next dance?"

"You _may_." Arthur held Alfred's gaze, silently daring him to call the guards. The night would end poorly for them both if he did. They danced a competent waltz, although Arthur was too focused on trying to decode Alfred's plan to add his normal flourishes to the dance. He wished he knew what the American thief wanted. It wasn't as if they had the same targets at the dance. As Arthur felt Alfred's hand roaming closer to his hidden pocket, he slapped it away and gave the other man a glare. "Watch your hands, sir."

"You were very familiar with those old men," Alfred accused, his jaw clenched.

Ah, jealousy. Alfred's sudden interest now made more sense. Arthur shrugged and ended the waltz near the open doors that led to the mansion's gardens. "This isn't Vienna," Arthur warned. As fondly as he remembered their brief dalliance, he would never become a master thief if he couldn't separate work from pleasure.

Alfred opened his mouth to reply, but a woman's shriek cut him off. "My bracelet is gone!" she cried from across the room.

The two thieves shared a glance and in the ensuing confusion both slipped out into the gardens. Once out of sight, they ran over flowerbeds, making a beeline for the tall stone fence that marked the edge of the manicured gardens. In the heady rush of the escape, it took Arthur several moments to realise that they were still holding hands.

Constrained by his tight corset, Arthur struggled to breathe as he tried to keep up with Alfred. He felt himself slowing Alfred down, and he half expected the American thief to let go and keep running on his own.

"Guards!" Alfred hissed under his breath, tightening his grip on Arthur's hand.

The Englishman spotted them a moment later. Knowing that running wasn't an option, he tugged Alfred into a nearby stone gazebo and collapsed on one of the benches, dragging the American down on top of him. Before Alfred could speak, he pulled the young man into a passionate kiss. They were still embracing amorously when the guards found them.

"Halt! What are you... oh."

Arthur didn't need to fake his breathless panting as he gave the guards a startled look. "Please! Don't tell my father!" he cried.

The guards averted their gaze. "Have you seen anyone run past?" one asked.

"Uh... no?" Alfred said, unable to take his eyes off Arthur.

"As if they would notice anything," one muttered. The others agreed and they left to continue searching for the elusive jewellery thief.

Arthur waited until the coast was clear, and tugged Alfred back to the wall. With a little boost from the American, he clambered over the stone fence and agilely landed on the leaf-covered ground on the other side. Alfred joined him a moment later, but Arthur didn't feel safe until they were safely hidden in his small attic apartment back in the city, where he could unlace his corset and gratefully inhale a deep breath of air.

"Did that kiss mean anything?" Alfred asked as soon as the door was closed.

"No. That was work." Before Alfred could speak, Arthur grabbed him by his lapels and pulled him closer. "_This_ is pleasure."

The next morning, they compared their hauls and Arthur noticed something interesting about Alfred's pile of bracelets and rings. Ranging from deep forest green to peridot, they all shared the same verdant hue. "You have an eye for emeralds, don't you?"

"I could say the same about you and sapphires," Alfred replied, smiling as he lifted up a lovely set of Fabergé cufflinks.

Arthur bit his tongue instead of admitting that the cufflinks paled in comparison to Alfred's shining eyes. He shrugged. "They sell better than diamonds."

"Uh huh." Alfred grinned as he slipped a gold and emerald ring onto Arthur's index finger. "You should keep this one. It suits you."

"I... " Arthur swallowed. "Thank you."

"This isn't over, you know," Alfred promised as he slipped his stolen gems back into his bag and walked to the door. "Someday, I'm going to steal your heart."

Arthur waited until he heard the footsteps reach the bottom of the staircase before closing his door. He smiled at his new ring. "Perhaps someday I'll tell you that you already have."

* * *

><p>Thank you to GelatoKitty for the prompt!<p> 


	19. November 19th

**AUTHOR: seecarrun**

**19th of November, 2014 - Share a Coke with…**

"Hey Mattie, could you help me out with something?"

Matthew put down his fork and eyed his brother cautiously, slowly chewing the last bit of his pancake breakfast. "With what?" he asked carefully.

Alfred's face flushed. "Weeeell-"

"And_ don't_ lie to me," Matthew interrupted with as much as a glare as the sweet boy could muster.

Alfred gulped. "W-what? I would never lie to you!"

Lie.

"I just need some help with this school thing!"

Also a lie.

"And, uh, you see…" he paused before collapsing into the chair next to Matthew, head in his hands. "I'm an idiot."

Sadly, not a lie.

"Go on," he prompted, gesturing Alfred to continue.

The other boy sighed heavily, his head still buried in his hands, causing his glasses to slip up under his bangs on his forehead. "So, there is this guy, and I've got the stupidest little crush on him, and-"

"_Crush? _What are you, twelve?"

"It's the best way to describe it, now shut up."

Matthew rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, he's freaking adorable, but like, I can't bring myself to even talk to him!" He ran a hand through his hair.

"Wait, wait, wait," Matthew shushed him, holding up a single finger and smirking. "You mean to tell me that there is someone that the great _Alfred Jones_ is intimidated by?" He whistled. "Must be some crush. Who is this guy?"

Alfred bit his lip. "The student council president…"

"Arthur Kirkland?!"

"Don't…_ say_ it like that!" he whined, pulling at his hair. "I never even knew the dude existed until last month when I had to ask him for an extension on the football fundraiser, and he's been on my mind ever since!"

Matthew sniffed, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "My little Alfie is in love!"

"It's just a crush!" he insisted, flushing. But Matt just waved him off with a laugh.

"I know, I know," he chuckled. "What do you need me to do?"

Alfred took a deep breath and started to share his plan.

* * *

><p>Arthur unlocked the door to the student council room and haphazardly tossed his bag to the side, collapsing into his chair with a sigh.<p>

Whomever decided that Monday afternoons would be the perfect time for his office hours was a prat and deserved to be hit quite roughly in the face.

He just wanted to go home.

After not too long, his personal pity-party was interrupted by a soft knocking on the office door, and after making sure he at least looked like he had been doing something productive, he cleared his throat and called "Come in."

A far too familiar and devastatingly handsome face poked through the door.

Oh bloody hell, it was Alfred Jones.

Arthur sat up just a little straighter in his chair, subconsciously brushing his hair away from his face with his hand. "Can I help you, Jones?" he asked as calmly as possible, despite his rapidly beating heart.

There might have been a slight, _itty-bitty_ chance Arthur had a big, fat, utterly _stupid_ crush on Alfred Jones.

"The fundraiser money isn't due for another week," Arthur continued, feeling himself flush ever so slightly darker as the gorgeous American football player walked closer.

Alfred's blue, blue eyes widened."Wha-? Oh! No! Ha! I, um, didn't come here about that."

"Then what-?"

"I GOT THIS AND THOUGHT YOU SHOULD HAVE IT."

Arthur blinked owlishly, so taken back by Alfred's sudden raised voice, he almost missed the item Alfred's shaky hands extended toward him.

"A Coke?" he asked, obviously confused, as he took the offered beverage into his hands. "I don't exactly drink the stuff, but- oh."

There, on the side of the bottle, were the words "_Share a Coke with Arthur_" written in white against the bold red. One glance at Alfred's face revealed he, too, was a similar red.

"I-I got it out of the vending machine, and, well, I've never gotten one with someone I know's name on it before, so I, like, figured I might as well give it to you, and… stuff," Alfred rambled, looking everywhere around the room but at Arthur.

Arthur held the bottle delicately, still a bit too taken back at the moment to do much more than blush lightly and stutter a quick "Well, uh, thank you" with a smile.

Alfred grinned in reply to Arthur's smile, shooting the student council president an enthusiastic thumbs up. "No prob dude, enjoy!" he chirped, and before Arthur knew it, the boy was gone, practically sprinting down the hall.

Alone once more, he gazed at the bottle in his hands.

Yeah, there was no bloody way he was drinking that Coke. He was saving that thing forever.

* * *

><p>Matthew smiled fondly when he saw his brother practically skipping across the school parking lot, a triumphant fist in the air above his head.<p>

"So you gave him the Coke, huh?" he asked as Alfred slid into the driver's seat, beaming from ear to ear.

"Hells yeah I did!" he practically sang, starting the car and pulling, just a bit too quickly, out of his parking spot. "Totally worth it, dude!"

Matthew scoffed. "I sure_ hope_ so. We only spent a small fortune on Coke to find that bottle. We're gonna be drinking that stuff for months."

But Alfred was all smiles, his empty wallet and his garage filled to the roof with Coca-Cola be damned.


	20. November 20th

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**20th of November, 2014**

It wasn't as if Arthur had _planned _to seek out Alfred after school. He was a busy student council president for a large high school, after all, and the last thing on his mind was taking time out of his schedule to go and watch the dumb jock play basketball.

No, he had just been taking a different route out of the school this evening and happened to stumble upon Alfred in the gym. So what if his new route out of the building was actually in the opposite direction to the parking lot? He just had to stretch his legs after sitting his desk for so long going over paperwork, that was all.

Granted, hiding behind the door of the gym and watching Alfred play basketball _may _look suspicious to an outsider, Arthur would be the first to admit to that. But the truth was, he just didn't want to disturb Alfred's practice, so peering out from behind the door was really the polite thing to do. He had nothing to hide, and wasn't at all shy of the popular new student, it was just a matter of common decency.

"Arthur? Is that you?"

Shit, he'd been spotted.

Arthur jumped out from behind the doorway, his eyes darting anywhere but at Alfred, who came strolling towards him with a friendly wave of his hand.

"Oh, uh, Jones. Hello. What a surprise to see you here so late."

Although now that Arthur thought about it, he _may _have overheard Alfred tell one of his friends earlier that he'd be staying late after school. Not that Arthur had retained that information or made plans around it. He just happened to remember it now, out of the blue.

"I wanted some practice since our new house doesn't have a hoop outside yet," said Alfred, an easy smile on his face.

Arthur found it off-putting. Not because that warm sunset shining through the gym windows made Alfred's smile glow and skin and hair turn to gold, but because the idiot was totally oblivious that he was breaking school rules.

"You're not allowed to be here after school unless you're accompanied by a teacher or some other school official," Arthur explained, pompously, and if there was a bite to his words it was only because he was too tired for this, not because Alfred's bright blue gaze made him nervous.

To his credit, Alfred looked genuinely apologetic. "Oh, I'm really sorry, I didn't know," he said. "It wasn't like that at my last school, but I guess the coach would bend the rules for me a little. I should pack up and go, then."

Arthur couldn't help but feel bad. Of course, it was only natural when Alfred slumped off dejectedly like that to get his ball and backpack. It really had nothing to do with the fact that Arthur hated to see a frown cloud the American's ever-happy, clueless face.

"Well…" he said slowly, and Alfred stopped and turned around, hopefully. "Since I'm student council president and I count as a school official, you could stay as long I'm here to accompany you."

Alfred beamed, happily, and Arthur stood up straighter, preening a little - but only out of pride that he could help a fellow student.

"Really?!" Alfred asked, excitedly. "You'd stay with me? I promise I won't be long!"

Arthur nodded and took a seat on the bleachers nearby. "It's only because I know how much everyone is looking forward to the basketball game next week and I want everyone to be on top form so we have a strong team," he added.

Alfred grinned at him, and Arthur blushed. He couldn't quite explain that one away, either.

"Sure it is," Alfred teased, dribbling the ball lazily as he and Arthur eyed each other. "It's really good of you to be so selfless, Mr. President. But It's a shame you never think about yourself because I'd have loved to take you out for ice-cream after my practice." Arthur went rigid in his seat. The way Alfred was practically smouldering at him, it was impossible to deny that he was flirting. "Of course, someone as busy and selfless as you wouldn't _dream _of treating yourself to a night off, right?"

Arthur was very, _very _good at denial. It was possibly his greatest skill, even beyond his good grades, hard-work and dedication. But even after four weeks of pretending he had no interest in Alfred F. Jones, Arthur found he couldn't turn down an offer like this.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Jones. Everyone deserves a night off once in a while. And ice-cream would be a good way to pay me back for staying with with you so you can practice now. Seems like a fair trade to me."

Not that he had to be totally honest about everything just yet, of course.


	21. November 21st

**ARTIST: stephyhime (Art is available on the **_**365daysofusuk**_** tumblr)**

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**21st of November, 2014 - Of Orch Dorks and Band Geeks**

Alfred F. Jones was a proud band geek.

He _loved_ his high school band class and his fellow band geeks. Being in band meant playing pop tunes and patriotic marches at half-time shows. It also meant cool stuff like occasional road trips with the football team (heck, yeah!) and days spent giggling with the other freshmen about being "tromboners." The absolute best part was summer band camp and some _very_ enjoyable memories that he had sworn he would never mention in public ever again.

So Alfred didn't understand why he was expected to play with the orchestra dorks, the epitome of uncool, for the next month. The kids in orchestra were boring and dull. They liked classical music and dressed up for their concerts. Bach? More like _blugh_. Unfortunately, the orchestra conductor had decided that she wanted to play some selections from the Nutcracker Suite for the school's winter concert. Much to Alfred's displeasure, it turned out that a trombone was technically part of a full-sized orchestra, making him the newest, honorary, orchestra member. If he had known, he would have picked a different instrument back in grade school. (He still had a hankering to play the guitar and a gnawing feeling that Guitar Hero didn't really count.)

So it came to pass that Alfred found himself slouching his way to the back of the orchestra room, tuning up his trombone, and praying for a black-out. They would have to evacuate and he could spend the class period doing something more enjoyable than playing a few stupid notes in a stupid classical sonnet or concerto or whatever-the-hell they were called. Lost in his funk, it took Alfred a few minutes to realize that he actually recognized the song that one of the violinists was practicing in front of him. Suddenly, he felt his interest perk up.

"Whoa, is that from Lord of the Rings?" Alfred asked, turning his music stand to the side so he could lean closer. The string solo abruptly ended as the violinist glanced back. He was blond and skinny and looked a couple of years older than Alfred, probably making him a senior. He was kind of cute in a way that the young American teenager was still trying to understand. Alfred grinned and continued, "I wish we were playing that instead. I mean, geez, 'Waltz of the Flowers,' can we get any more gay?"

The violinist tucked the instrument underneath his arm and arched a very bushy eyebrow. "I like waltzing and flowers," he said dryly. "I _also_ prefer men, but I'm not sure what that has to do with waltzing _or_ flowers. So no, for what it's worth, I don't think I could 'get' any more gay."

Alfred shook his head and laughed. "I didn't mean it in—"

The other teen continued to talk. "In fact, if they handed out grades for gayness I would have an A plus. Or I suppose I should call it a Gay plus?"

"Dude, chill. I didn't mean it in a bad way," Alfred repeated, finally finishing his sentence. He wondered why the other teenager was so uptight. (He learned later that the older teen's name was Arthur, he was incredibly anal about grammar and punctuality, and he didn't play the violin, he played the _viola_. Alfred also received an hour-long lecture on why violas were superior to violins, which went in one ear and out the other.)

Arthur sighed. "I suppose this is the part where you tell me that you have a gay friend or perhaps bisexual tendencies yourself and were only making conversation because you think me attractive and assume that your inane twaddle is preferable to Tchaikovsky."

Alfred nearly dropped his trombone. "Shit! How'd you know?" He hurriedly glanced around the room to make sure that none of the other orchestra members had heard. "Don't tell anyone, I haven't even told my brother!"

An awkward silence stretched between the two of them as the other musicians continued to tune their instruments in the background. It occurred to Alfred, a little too late, that the older teen had merely been trying to get a rise out of him and accidentally hit a little too close to the mark. Despite the awkwardness, Arthur shot him a conspiratorial grin. "Don't worry. There's no shame in liking Tchaikovsky," he murmured, before turning back to his music as the conductor called class to attention.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Alfred flipped open his music and decided that maybe he could learn to like orchestra class after all.


	22. November 22nd

**AUTHOR**:** Crystal**

**22nd of November, 2014 - Between the Hearts**

The Spades sovereign's gaze softened and his cerulean eyes shone with warmth as he opened up to the King of Hearts through a letter.

**_"This might surprise you, but the truth is I have loved you for years, Lord Arthur." _**His writing was clear and the hand that held the quill was firm and steady. At this moment, Alfred couldn't think of anything or anyone else besides his profound love for the fellow monarch.

_**"I'm sure of the feelings that occupy the core my chest. I have faith in us and trust that we are meant for one another. Each time I see you, I feel more alive, stronger and happy."**_

A smile formed on his lips as he continued. **_"You reside in my thoughts. Everything about you is an inspiration to me; your unshakable decisiveness when you handle important issues, the beauty of your manners and the depth of your thinking. I dream of holding you and kissing you in the sunlight that brings joy to the gardens of your Kingdom and under the soft moonlight that guides my troops through the dark."_**

It took Alfred quite long to convey the love he felt for his closest ally. Sure, there was some risk in this decision and yes, he couldn't be absolutely certain how the King of Hearts would respond to this personal letter. But years of silence and many nights of tears had filled the young ruler with a boldness that seemed unstoppable and couldn't be contained. Alfred always missed his beloved counterpart whenever they parted after a private meeting or joint celebration.

Arthur once told him that he didn't think himself capable of falling of love. His heart, the insignia of the Kingdom, belonged to the people that he ruled. Alfred still remembered that the fellow King had uttered the words with tears welling up in his eyes.

**_"Arthur, I believe you are wonderful and brave; no matter what you think about yourself, I'm sure that you are capable of loving. To love means to take a great risk…I know that well. My Kingdom and its power often thrive on solitude. But for you, I'm willing to lower my shield and build a bridge towards you. I don't know if you'll accept this. But I still feel a strong urge to try." _**He breathed in and out softly, loosening his grip around the quill pen to pause for a moment.

_**"I see a lot of love inside you. I see a man setting his priorities as a King. You care about your people. You have a heart that's beating for the realm…And here, I wonder, will it ever beat for me too?"**_

Alfred closed his eyes, remembering an old conversation that they had. He recalled the way Arthur stared into his blue eyes, as though he searched for a reflection of his own feelings into the gaze of the younger King. Alfred was surprised and thrilled, but remained calm on the outside. He hoped that if Arthur recognised that he himself was capable of love, he would also be able to recognise the love of his counterpart too.

_**"Your people will always consider you a great King. So do I. But I also see the man underneath the role of the monarch. Your chest is not empty of emotions and your heart is not made of stone."**_

He still longed for the light touch of Arthur's hand, reminiscing the way the King of Hearts caressed his cheek. There was a gentle expression on Arthur's face that day… and it seemed to harbour unspoken words which Alfred needed to hear.

_**" You will be safe with me and I'll be safe with you… I only wish to cherish you, Arthur. To love you and be loved by you."**_

Alfred occasionally gave the impression of someone who could go on in his life without the need of romantic love, but he had already embraced his strong feelings for the allied King. Spades had a warlike core and so did its prime champion. He knew what it meant to win or to lose. He could recognise strength or weakness and face either of them with decency.

It wasn't easy to tell how Arthur was going to respond to this confession. But Alfred had no intention to back down.

He signed the letter with confidence and a warm smile that often prompted Arthur to smile back…


	23. November 23rd

**Author: Pepper's Ghost**

**23rd of November, 2014 - Put the Kettle On**

The creaky floorboard at the entry of the room immediately drew England's attention from his book.

"I'd wondered where you'd gone off to Alfred," said England. America stood before him in scruffy jeans and a trashed white shirt. He was covered in grease and other car blick but looking a touch more settled then he had been in the past 24 hours.

"I needed something to do and your car was giving me the look," America said.

"Really now," said England. "'_The look_' - sounds intimidating. I hope you showed it what for."

"Yeah," said America. He was brightening right before England's eyes at the easy conversation they were having. "Yeah, I did!

America put one hand on his waist and began to tick off the ailments he'd fixed, "No more odd rattling noise. No more bump in the fender when you backed into Francis' car. Vacuumed interior. Fixed the radio. Tire pressure. Oil change. Blah blah blah. Honestly the only thing left to do is to repaint the thing so it doesn't look like crap."

"My car does not look like crap," said England. America shot him a very pointed look and England couldn't help but relent. "It just has character."

America chuckled a bit. It was rich and wholesome and everything England had been missing lately. Even as the laughter died down the good humor remained. America snagged the filthy rag poking out of his back pocket (one that looked suspiciously like England's brand new _Please, Please Me_ commemorative tea towel and boy was England going to kill him over that) and dabbed a clean spot at the corner of his eyes. He then drug the cloth across his sweaty brow inadvertently spreading grease all over his face.

"You almost done with that book?" said America.

"Indeed," said England. "Why don't you go get cleaned up and we'll be lazy with dinner in front of the television. I'm sure there's got to be something easy on."

America nodded in agreement and made his way out of the small room.

"Do you need help?" England said when America paused for a moment too long on at the foot of the staircase.

"_In the shower_?!" Even through the wall England could hear the squeak in America's voice. He was sure the other was blushing too.

"You never know," England said – more to himself then anyone really, but America had poked his head back in the room and caught it anyway.

"Right…so after I get all squeaky clean we can do stuff together?" said America. His eyes were bright and teasing even if his ears and neck were red.

"No one shall ever be able to take Narnia away from me but yes…if you feel like doing something together then I am ready too."

"Ok!" said America. He thundered up the stairs.

England finished up the last few pages of the book and then rooted around in the fridge for some good finger food dinner. Unable to locate anything other then all of the surplus America had insisted on bringing for his Thanksgiving feast, England hopped on his bike and made a quick trip down to a nearby kebab place.

10 minutes later he was back home again, food at the ready in front of the television, just in time for a clean America to come walking in with a towel absentmindedly being rubbed into his hair.

He plopped down on the couch next to England and sighed gustily.

"What a shitty vacation," said America.

"Hey now," said England. He brushed shoulders with America and discretely inched closer to his companion. "I'm here with you. I know I'm no substitute but – "

"Sorry Arthur," said America. "I'm just…" America waved his hand like he was trying to dispel cobwebs.

"Come here," said England. America instantly curled up around him. "Now you listen to me. We are going to have a bloody fantastic vacation together - Thanksgiving and all. This is life, Alfred, and we have to just keep going regardless of the storms around us."

"But I'm not being any fun," said America.

"And frankly I'm not in the mood for any fun considering the circumstances," said England. "But at least I have you and I can hold you close and try to make it better in some small way."

They held each other silently for a moment.

The solace was lost as soon as America reached for the food. He didn't fully let go of England and therefore couldn't quite reach the plate. Not one to get between America and his' stomach, England leaned forward and together the pair grabbed the plate before them. After all of the jostling was over they settled back against each other again.

"So you find something you wanted to watch?" said America.

"I thought we might try this new show," England said. "My sources tell me it's about space."

"I love space," America said. "It's so big and nothing matters."

"It's on at 5:10."

" Arthur…It's 5:10 now – "

"Blast!" said England. "We're late."

Again their embrace was interrupted by England frantically trying to find the infernal device America had gotten him a few years back that changed the stations and volume with the click of a button. It was a few moments before the other popped out from under the end table with a triumphant "a-ha!"

England flicked on the television and quickly clicked until he found what he was looking for.

"Look; it's just now starting!" said England. He snuggled back into America and made sure to place the remote on the couch arm just in reach should something too unsavory decided to interrupt the program and America's improving mood.

The pair were silent for the entire opening until the show finally started.

"So who's the doctor Arthur?" said America.

"Quit talking. Just watch."

"No seriously," said America. "Doctor Who?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> On November 23, 1963, the first episode of Doctor Who aired. Unfortunately, Doctor Who fun times and America's Thanksgiving vacation over at England's house were a bit of a problem that year thanks to the death of John F. Kennedy (and Adolph Huxley and C. S. Lewis) the day prior. They're both dealing with grief in their own way. As for why America isn't reacting a bit more – I'd bet that England is doing his best to shield America from the fall out which is helping to cut down on the paranoia of an assassinated leader. Being so far away from the action he's still probably dealing with the deep internal emptiness his people were feeling. (Or at least that is just one of my many head canons.) Other historical asides: _Please, Please Me_ the first album by The Beatles came out earlier in 1963 and was wildly popular; commemorative tea towels are a thing; TV remotes have been around since the mid-50s and made a prominent clicking noise when changing anything hence the term 'clicker.' Lastly, the title, Put the Kettle On, is in reference to "TV pickup" – a phenomena that commonly occurs in the UK by a mass use of turning on electric kettles or opening fridge doors during commercial breaks. In recent years Doctor Who has been a major contributor to TV pickup.


	24. November 24th

**ARITST: Em (Art is available on the _365daysofusuk_ tumblr)**

**AUTHOR: The-Literalist**

**24th of November, 2014 - All About That Bass**

Arthur could not recall the last time he was this stressed out. With his university-supplied headset firmly in place, microphone poised for optimal communication with other club members, Arthur took another look around the huge room. The square stage was set up with a runway jutting out into the front, where rows of chairs were branching off to ensure maximum seating capabilities. Rainbow flags and streamers decorated the walls with brilliant color, Arthur felt his heart swell with pride as a counter to the nervousness flooding his system.

Being the president of the LGBT club at his university, Arthur wanted this show to be absolutely perfect. It was the annual Drag Show his club hosted year after year, always successful and entertaining for the audience. This year, there were multiple men from the club dressing in drag and performing their own acts. The lineup of the Drag Show had received overwhelming excitement, as this year's performers happened to have a bit of a fanbase. Francis, Sadik, Gilbert, and Alfred were of the most popular performers. Francis was known to be a bit of an overzealous flirt, so naturally students would find him endearing, Sadik had all the chiseled, tan muscles anyone would fawn over, and Gilbert had a sharp, unique look to him, giving off a bad-boy impression. Personally, Arthur did not see the appeal of any of these performers, especially the most well-known performer, the beloved _Alfred Jones_. Don't even get Arthur started on _Alfred Jones_. He had been a thorn in Arthur's side ever since he joined the LGBT club two years ago, before Arthur assumed the presidential position.

When Alfred had signed up as a drag queen for the show, Arthur hadn't been surprised, of course the moron would jump on any excuse for attention. Just imagining everyone's eyes on Alfred during his act made Arthur's blood boil, but not because Arthur was jealous or anything, mind you.

Watching his club members rush around brought his mind back to the present, making sure the tables were set up for snacks and drinks, ensuring the ticket window was ready, decorating the stage and aligning the spotlights; yes, this was going to be a spectacular show.

There was only one, slightly problematic, concern gnawing through Arthur's sanity. The performers and hosts had not had a chance to practice with one another. Each person had practiced alone but none together. Due to scheduling conflicts, there had been no dress rehearsal, which meant…the actual show would be the first and final run-through of the acts. Arthur felt faint. He hadn't even seen the acts himself! And he was the president! Praying to any and every god, he hoped none of the performances would be too provocative or inappropriate. Well, he couldn't worry about that now. Smiling eager university students began to file into the room; thirty minutes until show time.

_So far so good_, Arthur thought from the darkened corner beside the stage. There were no empty seats after the students had come in, the show had started, and the hosts had given their introductions perfectly eliciting cheers and applause from the audience. Before the event began, everyone had told Arthur he should be up on the stage as a host, but in all honesty he was much too afraid of being in front of that many people, so instead he moderated from the sidelines, giving instructions to other club members through his headset every now and then.

The acts began with relative ease, Francis up first. _Too much frills_ Arthur pondered upon seeing the performance. Francis had worn a frilly pink dress to accompany his French number, with many inappropriate gestures and kisses blown to the audience. Well it could have been worse, all things considering it was pretty tame for what Francis was capable of.

Sadik's act was a combination of showing off his rippling biceps whilst wearing some sort of masquerade outfit, complete with ornate white mask. Then onto Gilbert's performance, which was overbearingly loud and much too intensified for Arthur's taste. Then finally! It was time for Alfred's act, not that Arthur was excited for it or anything.

The lights dimmed and the song began playing, All About That Bass by Meghan Trainor, _an interesting pick_ Arthur thought, wasn't that the song centered around body image? He knew Alfred wasn't the skinniest man ever, constantly eating junk food all the time took a toll on his figure, but he was in no means obese (or unattractive). Alfred emerged from the backstage curtains in a stunning blue gown, makeup done to perfection and sparkling high heels. Arthur gulped.

_Because you know I'm all about that bass, 'bout that bass, no treble. I'm all about that bass, 'bout that bass, no treble._

The lyrics reverberated through the speakers as Alfred strolled down the runway, swinging his hips seductively and eyeing the crowd like he knew he embodied the very definition of sex and temptation. Arthur couldn't tear his eyes away.

_Yeah, it's pretty clear, I ain't no size two. But I can shake it shake it, like I'm supposed to do._

Alfred pivoted his body so that his back was to the crowd and shook his ass like it was no one's business; twerking, was it? Hands on his hips, he jutted his butt out to the audience, his head turned sideways so there was a good view of his profile.

_Cause I got that boom boom that all the boys chase, and all the right junk in all the right places._

Facing the audience again, he ran his hands down his dress-clad body, accentuating his curviness.

_I see the magazine workin' that photoshop. We know that shit ain't real, c'mon now make it stop. If you got beauty, beauty, just raise 'em up, 'cause every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top._

With these lyrics, Alfred grabbed the top of his gown and ripped it apart so it fell to the ground, emerging from the fallen gown in an extremely tight sparkling dress. Arthur's heart stopped. The crowd became a cacophony of whistles and cheers.

_Yeah, my mama she told me don't worry about your size. She says "Boys like a little more booty to hold at night."_

Alfred then proceeded to spank his own ass before grabbing it with both hands and shimmying downward, his hips gyrating and eyes fluttering and stupid smirk permeating those beautiful red-lipsticked lips. _Holy shit_.

The rest of Alfred's act passed by in a blur, Arthur's mind clouded with desire and disbelief. He had never been so aroused in his life. In fact, he barely even registered the rest of the show, still completely taken by Alfred's performance. Luckily, the show went on beautifully even without Arthur's engagement.

After it was all over, most of the members gathered together to gush about their post-show excitement, all relieved the acts had gone so well. They were huddled around Antonio, the designated photographer for the Drag Show, basking in the pictures he had taken from each performance. As he clicked through all the pictures, he stopped on a certain photo of their president, Arthur, who was caught gazing up at Alfred from the side of the stage with a look of pure wonder, green eyes wide and mouth gaping. Suddenly, everyone began to giggle at the prospect of their president being so mesmerized by Alfred. Francis especially took a lot of humor in it. He called Alfred over to see the picture, and when Alfred glanced at it and blushed profusely, Francis grew even more amused. It didn't take long for Arthur himself to wander over to find out what the commotion was about, and when he realized what Antonio had taken a picture of, he screamed in an ungentlemanly fashion and attempted to grab the camera away. But even if he had managed to succeed in deleting the picture, the damage was done. Alfred must know Arthur's feelings by now, even though he had tried so hard to bury them under layers of denial and aggression.

Bullocks, every bone in Arthur's body was telling him to escape this humiliation, so he made to flee but was stopped by Alfred. Alfred, who was still wearing that short sparkling dress from the performance with absolutely no shame on his face at all. In fact, his expression was quite warm, still blushing pink and ruby red lips curved upward in a tentative smile. Arthur's heart stuttered.

"I'm glad you liked my act, Artie," Alfred began, "If you wanna see what else I can do, you should come over to my place tonight." He finished with a wink. All of their friends and fellow club members started to catcall and snicker around them. Arthur cheeks turned even redder as he pushed Alfred aside and quickly walked away from the teasing words and looks. _Such a pompous wanker_, Arthur thought, _but I am definitely taking him up on that offer_, another part of his mind supplied. Arthur allowed himself a small smile, he couldn't wait to get his hands on all that bass.


	25. November 25th

**AUTHOR: towerofart**

**25th of November, 2014 - Stranger in Town**

The Old Wild West was home to outlaws and sheriffs, cowboys and Indians. You only went out West if you were lookin' for gold, a new start, or trouble. Most found trouble, and few found gold, and almost everyone got a new start. But there was one thing that was true all across the Wild West; we were all guilty of something.

"Sheriff! Sheriff Jones!" A little freckled girl with brown braids ran up the front steps to the town police house. Her boots clanked on the warm wooden floor.

"What is it, Miss Becca?" asked the sheriff. He was a tall blond man who sat behind the desk at the other end of the room. Pinned to his breast pocket was a gold star that would every now and then catch the light.

The little girl pointed out toward the town's main road. "Someone new's come ta town!"

The sheriff's eyebrows came together and he walked outside of the building onto the shade of the porch with Becca trailing behind him. Coming up the road from the east was a lone rider. He sat on a brown horse with a well-loaded mule trailing behind on a rope.

Becca stared at the traveller from the porch railing. The man had stopped to read the town's sign. "He looks funny."

The man did look just that. He wore a black elegant tail coat and he sat in the saddle strange. Atop his head was a top hat that barely provided him adequate shading and the poor mule behind him suffered under expensive looking bags and boxes.

"That he does, Miss Becca... That he does." The sheriff stepped down onto the dust road. He walked over to the strange man with a long, bow-legged gait. "Howdy, sir."

The stranger looked up quickly, noticing the sheriff's badge. "Oh, hello there. Are you the authority for this... town?"

Sheriff Jones's noes scrunched up. The fellow had a weird way of speaking. "Yea, I guess you could say that. I'm Sheriff Alfred Jones. What brings you 'round here?"

It was the man's turn to scrunch up his nose. "My name Arthur Kirkland. I come from England, across the Pacific. I was told there is quite a booming business starting in Western America, so I thought I'd come and try my hand." The man paused and looked around at the collection of wooden buildings. "But, it would seem I have been miss-informed."

"It'd seem that way," Jones chuckled, "Well, yer welcome to stay here as long as ya like."

"Thank you. Would you mind pointing me in the direction of your town's inn?"

Alfred chuckled again and started to walk along the town's main road. "We don't have an inn, Mr Kirkland. No one ever bothers comin' out to a place like this. Yer welcome to stay at my place though. I'm sure I could find you a place to bunker down."

"Ah, thank you." Arthur said, tipping his hat from atop his horse. The mule trailing behind him flicked its ears and brayed.

Alfred grinned up at the Englishman. "No problem. Now, let's get these two poor creatures some water and you some proper clothes."

Arthur dismounted with a frown, straightening his overcoat. "What's wrong with my current attire?"

The sheriff's grin widened. "Oh, nothing..."


	26. November 26th

**AUTHOR: dragons-dumpling**

**26th of November, 2014 - We Met on A Cold Day**

"That test was the hardest one this semester!" Alfred exclaimed as he exited the Chemistry classroom with Matthew, the teacher aid. "Yeah, it was a tough one, but what did you expect? It's finals this week. "Matthew uttered."So, what will you do now? Your next class is in three hours." Alfred gave a shrug and replied, "I dunno. Play games, get something to eat, study some stuff, the choices are endless. I will take a nap for starters." The teacher aid gave a sigh and let Alfred off on his merry way. Saying their goodbyes, Alfred rushed out into the cold, fall weather. "Maybe a walk around the quad won't be so bad, it'll clear up some thoughts." he concluded to himself and slowed his pace. Damn, it's like a ghost town or something. Nobody's here! Alfred thought when he made it to the campus grounds. It can't be helped though, weather's gone wonky and it's freezing right now. Adjusting his blue scarf, he began to second-guess himself.

Maybe taking a detour of the quad was a bad idea but before he could turn around and leave, a peculiar object catches his eye. What is that? Alfred wondered. Hmm, can't tell. I should probably check it out. Walking up to the object, he couldn't identify the mysterious brown...thing for a thick layer of leaves covered most of its features. As he advanced towards the item, an image of a shoe finally registered into Alfred's brain.

Something's not right, he started off. Is it a lost shoe? But it's sticking up. Is it connected to a body? But the shoe isn't moving, so are they dead? But what if they aren't dead and they're zombies?! Alfred began to panic internally and paced back and forth when the sound of rustling caught him off guard as a hand shot up from the layer of leaves and the sound of air emitted from the other side. The shoe disappeared into the pile and thus striking Alfred's curiosity once more. Maybe an investigation isn't such a good idea, but he can't leave now, not when he still hasn't figured out what's in that pile of leaves! Curiosity wins this round, Alfred grumbled as he trudged over the last three feet. He leaned over the leaves, upon closer inspection that it looks like a wall to block something, to come across the face of a young man. Surprisingly, the man hadn't noticed him yet so Alfred took this opportunity to observe the other.

The first thing Alfred noted was that his eyes were closed. Strange, maybe he's sleeping. He was lying on the layer of leaves, his right leg propped up. That's where the shoe went. He had strawberry blond hair and pale skin, a couple of little freckles dotted around his nose-

"I know you're there." Alfred jumped back a bit, startled for a voice broke the cold silence. He franticly looked around to see if anybody was talking to him and realized that the voice was coming from the person he had been examining. Emerald orbs glared back and they didn't look too happy. The male sat up and gave Alfred a skeptical look. "What are you doing here?" he inquired." Well, I should be asking you that." Alfred responded, "Aren't you cold? There's literally nobody out here other than us." The young man scanned the area and gave a shrug. "It doesn't matter. Now leave me alone." Alfred pouted. "Aw man, it's freaking cold here and you don't want company?"

"That's correct. I don't need any company from anyone." The man stated once again. Alfred decided that he'd be alone for the rest of the day anyway, so he plopped on the wall of leaves and sat in front of the young man. "What's your name? You don't look like you're from around here." Alfred said, beginning to enjoy the reaction of the other, who spluttered from the fact that Alfred had breached his wall of leaves. "I said, leave me alone! It doesn't matter!" the green-eyed man lashed out once again, with more voice to it. "I'm not leaving until you tell me!" Alfred sang and smiled as the man realized that any threats could end up futile. But he seemed hesitant, so Alfred concluded the he should give his name first. After all, he did ask right? "My name's Alfred. Alfred Jones. Chemistry major." He started off as he gave the man his hand.

The male seemed hesitant, but soon took Alfred's hand and gave it one firm shake.

"Arthur Kirkland. Performing Arts major."


	27. November 27th

**AUTHOR: Abi**

**27th of November, 2014 - Thanksgiving**

The fact that the alarm clock buzzing by his bed at 3:00 in the morning was obnoxious enough, the fact that Alfred was trying to get out of the tangle of limbs they were intertwined in, was just plain rude.

"Mph, stay." Arthur mumbled into Alfred's chest as he attempted to pull his American closer.

"Turkey." Alfred replied as he managed to peel Arthur's off of him.

"Leave it." But Arthur was no longer making an attempt to keep Alfred in bed, as Alfred turned off the incessant beeping and shoved his glasses on his face.

"And have an undercooked turkey? We're not tryin' kill people Artie." Alfred said as he shrugged on a bathrobe and made his way towards the door.

"Was... that a... comment 'bout my cooking...?" Arthur asked as he rolled over to Alfred's side of the bed.

At eight o'clock Arthur made his way downstairs, and followed the sound of Alfred's laughter to the kitchen.

"Hey there, sweetheart, the water for the tea just finished boiling." Alfred said as he pecked Arthur's cheek as the still half-asleep Brit walked passed.

"Yuck." Peter exclaimed sticking his tongue out.

"You don't have to watch." Arthur said as he started making his tea.

"How can I not watch when you two do it in plain sight?" The micro-nation sulked.

"When are Matthew and Josefina getting here?" Arthur asked as he clinked his spoon on his cup, and sat down next to Peter, who was obviously not as upset as he acted when he passed Arthur his breakfast.

"Mattie and Francis just texted me that they should be here by 9, if traffic stays the way it is, and Josefina apologized saying that she won't get here until 11." Alfred said, pouring himself a cup of coffee into his already half-full cup.

"And the others haven't woken up yet." Arthur said, as he took small bites of his toast.

"Cause you always wake up so early." Alfred chortled, "Let them sleep." He stopped short of kissing Arthur, and instead grabbed ahold of Arthur's hand.

It was a few hours later, everyone else had woken up, and Matthew and Francis had arrived, yet Alistair was still in his room. Huffing Arthur stormed up to the guest room where Alistair was staying.

"Get up! Get up, you freckled ass!" Arthur raged as he banged on the door, he could hear the distinct giggles of his younger siblings as they watched him, and he could hear Francis laughing from the kitchen. Arthur sighed as he contemplated banging his head against the door.

"I will break this door down!" Keeping true to his word Arthur waited a moment before he raised his leg, about to strike…

Only for the door to open just before his foot made contact, and instead his ass made contact with the floor instead, "What are you doing down there?" Alistair asked with a grin on his face.

"I was waking you up! Guests have arrived, and you still have to cook something, get washed up _and_ look presentable!" Arthur exclaimed as Alistair gripped him by the arm and pulled him off the floor.

"_I_ need to get presentable?" Alistair mocked as he messed up Arthur's hair forcefully, before rushing into the bathroom.

"You are such an ass!" Arthur exclaimed as he stalked down the hall, bumping into two younger personifications. "And what are you two doing?" He asked, with one large brow raised.

"Just getting some pre-dinner entertainment." Brielle chuckled. Arthur rolled his eyes as he continued to the kitchen .

"How was waking the brute?" Francis asked with false innocence as they entered the kitchen.

Arthur didn't respond. "He fell on his ass." Peter cackled. Arthur turned to glare at the young micro-nation.

"Aw, come on Babe, don't fight on Thanksgiving." Alfred said, wrapping his arms around Arthur before giving his hair a brief kiss.

At that moment Matthew walked into the kitchen, "What is wrong with this country? The Canucks are playing today, and the only thing on is goddamn football!"

"Sorry bro, you're on my turf now and on Thanksgiving the only thing acceptable to watch here is Football!" Alfred laughed as he wrapped Matthew in a head-lock.

"American football." Emrys corrected as he straightened up.

"Hey here in America, on Turkey day, it's football." Alfred said as he let Matthew go.

"Is that what's so important that nobody remembered their manners to come and greet me?" An accented voice called from the entrance of the kitchen

There was a chorus of greetings from the nations present. "What'd you make?" Alfred asked like a child, as he tried to peer into the bag and balance them at the same time. Calmly Arthur walked over and took one of the three bags.

"Be careful, those are all the tamales I made yesterday, by hand I might add; only way to eat them: handmade and fresh." Josefina chided as she wrapped Brielle and Peter into a hug, it was a lesson they had all been told many times before.

"Well that's everyone then," Alfred glance at Arthur nodded his head, "You all should bring the food and put it on the table, Brielle put name cards down, you all should be able to find a seat. I'll be out with the turkey in a second."

After everyone was settled and Josefina said grace, Alfred began carving the turkey and conversations broke out amongst the table. It was loud and boisterous, but no fights had broken out, and Arthur had to admit that it was probably for the best that the seat to Alistair's right was empty.

Eventually the nations left the table one by one to settle in the living room for calmer conversations and at some point during the evening Josefina had to get back home. In the evening Matthew and Francis retired to their shared guestroom and not long after that Alfred and Arthur followed.

When Alfred and Arthur entered their room and closed the door Arthur sighed as he leaned into Alfred's embrace from behind, as Alfred breathed in deeply between Arthur's neck and shoulder.

"Altogether that went over well." Arthur said as he moved to change.

"Mmmm. Sorry, I thought Ian would come this year."

"No problem, love. It's probably for the best that he didn't." Arthur conceded as he climbed into their shared bed.

"Yeah," Alfred said as he followed suit. "When are you leaving?"

"Don't worry about it tonight." Arthur said as he pulled Alfred close and closed his eyes.


	28. November 28th

**ARTIST: theconfusedartist (Art is available on the _365daysofusuk_ tumblr)**

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**28th of November, 2014 - Rivals**

Alfred was a child of the Pokémon generation. He'd been seven years old when the craze hit his school, sweeping the student body like an epidemic. It was like everyone's brains had been rewired overnight, for all of a sudden the kids at school were speaking in a new language of "Type matchups" and lusting after "rare Pokémon" – and all the adults could do was look on in confusion and hope the epidemic died down before all their money disappeared on the cheap card game that seemed to be the only cure.

Alfred had loved the cards and the TV show, of course, but he had always been more of a video game geek, so he quickly developed an obsession with Pokémon Red. E got Pokémon Yellow, too, when that came out, and he would never in his life forget the thrill of the release of Pokémon Gold, and the arrival of a hundred brand new Pokémon.

Alfred continued to buy the games throughout his teenage years, even though his friends and peers all grew out of their Pokémon obsessions along the way to high school. Alfred understood, of course, but at the same time he didn't understand how you could just quit Pokémon like that! When you were a kid in the 90s and you _knew_ what it had been like growing up in the era of the Pokémon craze, he really didn't see how you could just stop loving the franchise. It had changed their worlds, and brought everyone together, and Alfred was sure he would love it till the day he died.

Besides, when new games were released they provided all the fun of nostalgia along with the excitement of modern video games, so Alfred couldn't help but buy every generation that came out.

Naturally, that meant Alfred arrived to the store bright and early on the release date of Pokémon Alpha Sapphire and Omega Ruby.

Alfred had opted to go to university in England, so he'd bought a European 3DS when they were released a few years ago. He soon realised this was a big mistake when all the games he wanted were released days, weeks, or sometimes even months after North America. (The movie situation was even worse, but that was a whole other story.)

Waiting for video games when they were already available in other countries frustrated Alfred, but his shock and distress over the Pokémon delay was the worst. Everyone in America and Japan had been playing Pokémon Alpha Sapphire and Omega Ruby for a week before Alfred could go to the store and pick up his reserved copy of Omega Ruby. It was just plain outrageous, and he'd been kind of sulky about it all week.

But when he arrived at the store and saw the posters of the legendaries Groudon and Kyogre, he instantly relaxed. It felt like coming home. He suddenly had vivid memories of picking up his original copies of Pokémon Sapphire and Ruby as a pre-teen, excited about the new Pokémon and wondering what new features the games had in store.

There was nothing like picking up a brand new Pokémon game as a child, and even at twenty-two, Alfred's heart fluttered in excitement.

"Jones?! What the hell are you doing here?"

His heart sank when Alfred recognised the voice and he turned to find possibly the only person who could bring him down on such a special day.

Arthur Goddamn Kirkland. The pretentious postgrad douchebag who somehow, despite not taking the same course or living in the same building as Alfred, managed to walk into the American's life every day and piss him off royally. Alfred didn't know why, but Arthur just irritated him, and the other man must have felt the same because whenever they came across each other they ended up arguing. It could get quite heated, and they'd been separated by friends or university staff on several occasions.

It didn't help that Arthur was always finding Alfred at the worst moments, only adding fuel to his teasing and taunts, and now the older student had found him in the middle of a half-empty video game shop.

Alfred bristled, feeling embarrassed and defensive about being caught in exactly the kind of place Arthur would mock him for. But there was really no way to hide what he was doing at a video game store, so if he didn't want Arthur to pick on him for buying a kids' game, he might as well own it.

"Um, buying video games, what the hell do you think I'm doing at 'GAME?'" Alfred countered, rolling his eyes condescendingly.

Arthur flushed, probably realising how stupid a question it had been. Perhaps he was as surprised to see Alfred as Alfred was to see him.

"Well, obviously," the British student recovered quickly, with a glare of his own. "I meant, what are you doing here at 9:30 in the morning. Don't you have class?"

It was Alfred's turn to blush. He glanced down at the floor in embarrassment, and suddenly noticed the game Arthur held in his hand.

"Is that Alpha Sapphire?" he asked, shocked.

Arthur glanced down at the game clutched in his hand, as if seeing it for the first time. Then he jumped, and hid it behind his back, flustered.

"Um, it's for my brother. My little brother," Arthur said quickly. "He's at school and asked me to pick it up for him."

Alfred eyed the other man suspiciously.

"If he's at school, why did you feel the need to arrive at the store's opening time? You could get it at lunch, or he could pick it up himself after school."

"Uh, well…I mean…that is to say…"

Arthur was clearly floundering, his eyes darting around the store, and Alfred realised the Englishman was lying. He had bought Pokémon for himself, and was embarrassed to admit it.

Alfred grinned victoriously.

"Oh, Kirkland, there's no need to be ashamed of a little guilty pleasure," he teased. "If you like playing Pokémon just say so. It's kind of embarrassing to pretend you're buying it for your little brother. If you were more honest with yourself then people might actually respect you."

Alfred reached over to the display of shiny red and blue Pokémon games and picked up a copy of Pokémon Omega Ruby.

"See, I'm not going to lie about it. I'm here to buy Pokémon, too. But the difference between you and me is that I buy my video games like a real man and don't use my little brother as an excuse."

Arthur stared at Alfred with a mix of horror and anger and disbelief etched across his face. He clearly wanted to make fun of Alfred, but there wasn't much he could say when he was also here to buy a kids' video game.

Eventually he received, standing up straight and crossing his arms haughtily.

"I should have known you'd be into something like this," he said, disdainfully. "But you're far too immature to understand the real allure of Pokémon. I bet you don't even care about EV training or putting together a real team. You're probably just in it for the pretty colours and cute monsters."

Alfred snorted. "Psht! As if! I bet I could whip your ass any day in a Pokémon battle!" he declared.

"Oh, I would love to see you try," Arthur sneered at him.

"Awesome," Alfred smirked, taking a step closer to the British student. "All I need is seven days on this game and I'll already have a team that will crush your Pokémon to smithereens."

"Why not make it three days," Arthur glared, taking a step forward himself, refusing to be intimated.

"Why not two?" Alfred retorted, eager to one-up his arch-nemesis. "Saturday night. Meet at my house at 7:00 and we'll see who's the better Pokémon Trainer."

"Fine by me. I just hope you don't get your hopes up too high: it would be embarrassing to beat you as quickly as I will if you think you actually stand a chance."

"Big talk coming from such a little guy. You'd better bring you're A-game so you don't have any excuses for losing to me so badly."

They stood there, almost nose to nose, staring each other down, until a nervous employee came over and asked if they needed help finding what they were looking for.

They separated then, paying for their games and going home to vigorously train their Pokémon for the next 48 hours.

It wasn't until lunch time that Alfred realised that he kind of technically had pretty much asked Arthur on a date to come round his house Saturday night and play video games.

First he was horrified.

Then he laughed.

And then the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.

By the time Arthur arrived on Saturday (blushing and nervous, for he had also been pondering the "date" aspect of this arrangement) Alfred wasn't so keen on thrashing Arthur's Pokémon team and making his rival cry.

He was kind of more interested in enjoying his favourite video game with a fellow fan, and getting to know that cute older student who'd been on his mind ever since they met in September.


	29. November 29th

**AUTHOR: hoshiko2**

**29th of November, 2014 - Pedal Heart**

_I took what you were to me and made it into a song. So let us sing in the key of E! Pedal Heart._

Every day after school Alfred would wait, and every day Arthur would find him. Alfred would offer Arthur a bike ride home, and Arthur would accept. It was a tradition. They had been doing it since they first started secondary school. Alfred first offered, and Arthur rejected. It continued for the next month, until Arthur resigned himself to just accepting the ride. He knew that Alfred was a persistent American, so it was best to just give in before things became frustrating.

"Arthur! Hey Arthur!" Alfred waved frantically. Arthur pretended to look irked by his enthusiastic antics, but he couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. "Hey!"

"Afternoon Alfred," Arthur replied softly. He glanced at the bike subtly. Then, his eyes flickered to the cherry blossom trees that lined the street outside of their school. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Alfred looked over as well and smiled. "I love those trees. It was nice of our sister school in Japan to send them to us so we could plant them."

"I hate them," Arthur snipped. He held up his hands to frame a few pink petals that flittered down to their feet. "They look like hearts, and when they're falling, it gives such a bad feeling. Hearts falling to the ground. How sad."

Alfred didn't say anything in reply. He looked at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. Then, he mounted his bicycle. "Ready to go?"

"Oh, yes." Arthur got on the back of the bike and held onto the back handles.

Alfred had learned to be a steady rider. He didn't go too fast as he'd earn a smack on the back from Arthur for scaring him. He also made sure not to hit any potholes or go over any unstable terrain; again more back slapping from Arthur. They'd talk about their day in school or whatever was happening at home or even plans for the weekend, if they had any. They rarely saw each other in school, only during the once every so-often times they paired up in English or the one time in Maths when Alfred came in to help some struggling students; he was unable to help his laughter at seeing Arthur there, a nervous wreck for having to ask for help on _anything_, and personally offered to tutor him.

And yet, they seemed to gravitate to each other.

"Oh, I forgot that today we have to go a different way." Alfred looked over his shoulder as they stopped at a stoplight. "I have to stop by the pharmacy and pick up some medicine for my mom. She has allergies."

"That's all right."

"Well…" Alfred looked away. The tips of his ears were red suddenly. "See, we have to go up this hill and I don't know if I'll make it or not… So, um, why don't you give me a kiss on the back? I'll make it then."

Arthur coughed, fumbling between answering and laughing nervously. Alfred usually said blunt statements that confounded Arthur, but today was the most sudden thing he had heard from his friend. Neither remembered when exactly they had started this journey back home together. They never met up before school to ride together. It was always after school and always to Arthur's home where Alfred would drop him off and then continue on his way home. Overtime it had become a tradition that neither questioned anymore.

"Hey, d-did you hear me?" Alfred asked. He didn't look over his shoulder at Arthur.

Arthur said nothing. He leaned forward and pecked Alfred's back, right between his shoulder blades. Alfred began pedaling after that. He breathed a soft chuckle. He hummed as he started up the hill. Arthur clung to the back of his seat, leaning slightly over the side to around Alfred. It wasn't too steep a hill, but it still looked difficult. Alfred didn't seem to have any problem with it as he hardly missed a breath of whatever song he was humming.

They reached the top of the hill and looked down. The line of cherry blossom trees had extended all the way down and around the curved corner. Petals littered the ground, covering the entire area in a bright pink.

"H-hey, um…" Alfred's ears were red. He didn't look back over his shoulder at Arthur. "I, uh… wanted to tell you something…"

"Yes?" Arthur wanted to see his face. Alfred wasn't the shy type; was he? Somehow, this made Arthur chuckle at such a thought that this usually boisterous boy could actually become shy suddenly.

"Well, um… To me, you are, well, me. And I hope you kinda, well, um, think, I'm a little like you. And when you, you know… When you laugh… It feels like the whole world is laughing with you…"

Alfred gripped the handlebars and turned around in his seat to face Arthur. His face was flushed, possibly from the trek up the hill but more likely from embarrassment at his confession. His blue eyes stared right into Arthur's wide green eyes. Both were immobile.

"If I have even just a little of you, I fall more in love with you and t-then someone can laugh too." Alfred smiled up at the pink cherry blossoms petals that fluttered down between them. Arthur ignored them. "The world you wish for is right here, and well…"

Alfred looked back at Arthur. His resolve had strengthened the longer he spoke, but his eyes grew softer. He reached out to pull a stray petal from Arthur's hair that had landed on his head. He took that chance to run the back of his hand down Arthur's cheek. "And the world I wish for is right here as well…"

By now Alfred felt his heart pounding in his chest. Then, Arthur's face slowly broke into a smile. Alfred began to laugh, relieved that Arthur hadn't jumped off his bike and run the opposite direction.

"Hey…just as you hate the cherry blossoms so much, I love you more than anything else in the world."

Arthur began to laugh, his face blossoming like a cherry petal. He removed his hands from the back of the bicycle to wrap around Alfred's middle. Alfred watched him with a wide smile and nervous eyes.

"Well, I certainly do _hate_ those cherry blossoms quite a bit." He nodded down to the bottom of the hill. "Shall we?"

Alfred laughed once before turning and placing his feet back on the pedals. Together, they flew down the hill, a trail of pink heart-shaped petals swirling behind them in their wake.


	30. November 30th

**AUTHOR: starryclimes**

**30th of November, 2014**

"May I offer my assistance?"

The small gas lit room was empty except for two young women. Their white dresses stood stark against the forest green décor. One had her head in her hand crying, whilst the other, gold hair gleaming and coming undone, was attempting to comfort her.

Alice had heard muffled sniffling coming from behind the resting room's heavy velvet curtains and despite her reservations had went to see what was the matter. Her polite inquiry was met with a flash of righteous blue anger. "Maddie had wine spilled on her!" There was a deep red stain seeping on the white dress.

Making an expression of empathy she knelt down halfway to see if it could be repaired. Alice suddenly realized with the young lady's accent that these young ladies were from the colonies and the much talked about shipping merchant daughters richer than Croesus. Their wealth enough to make any gentlemen ignore the horrible accents and uncouth ancestry, and make a match into the gentry.

"I believe we have not been formally introduced." Conventions would just have to be overlooked.

Amelia's shoulders shook, as if amused at Alice's manners.

Alice gave a curtsey as she said "Alice Kirkland."

"Oh." Amelia bobbed, "Amelia Jones! It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

Maddie stood up to curtsey gracefully, "Madeline Williams."

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be out dancing?" There was no mockery in the blunt question posed by the enthusiastic blond. Miss Williams sank down into the chair again as if overwhelmed by her friend's impropriety.

Alice just stiffly said, "I am of no consequence, truth be told." It was in poor taste to treat these children as a confidantes, but she knew they would never see her again, unless they forced to in polite society.

"That is silly Alice."

"Miss Kirkland." Maddie chided from her chair, her gloves trying to cover the stain on the deep cut ball gown, her magnificent bosom being shown off to full display. It was no wonder the young girl had wine poured on her, she was very beautiful and very wealthy, and very much a rival to the prestigious upper crust British girls.

"Miss Kirkland." Amelia said, those full lips full of amusement. _Why did the nuisance of a girl ruffle her so?_ Her heart trembled at Amelia's subconscious fluttering of blond eyelashes. Tamping down that nonsense, she made to leave when Amelia grabbed her by her blue gloves.

"Stay, Al-Miss Kirkland…We'll dance with you!"

_How preposterous_, she could feel her cheeks filling with color.

"I am sure, Miss Jones, that your dance card is full."

"Hahaha…no." Amelia said rather subdued all of a sudden. "Maddie's is though…"

"Listen!" Amelia still held her hands, the heat seeping from her large ones to Alice's dainty own. "It's a waltz!" The strains of music were muted, and barely heard.

"Scandalous." Alice managed through her corset which suddenly seemed too tight. Her heart was now aching unbearably. Silly girl.

Not caring an ounce, Amelia curtseyed to Alice, "May I have this dance?" Blue eyes looked up earnest.

Alice must have looked stern and annoyed, because Maddie literally flinched.

Amelia smiled and wrapped her hand about Alice's waist. Horrors. Alice's eyebrows were raised so high she thought her eyes would burst. Raising her other arm with the young girl's she was pulled close, their waists almost touching, their breasts almost brushing. So scandalous. Amelia leaned close, her height an inch or two over Alice's, and said, "Your eyebrows are huge."

"What!" Alice lost her properness for a moment to sputter. "You…" Amelia laughed, the reverberations echoing through their almost joined bodies.

"I like them. You also have pretty eyes." Alice couldn't breathe. She only stared as she realized she was being led in a lovely waltz.

"How, how do you know these steps?"

Amelia chuckled, her bosom was white in contrast to her browned face, freckles slightly spread over her pink cheeks, "I got to be the boy, when teaching Maddie, she was too shy when she was little."

Alice just nodded with a jerk. Feeling the warmth ooze through her body. What a sight they must make, two women, one in out of fashion clothing and out of prime, whilst the other was in the cut of fashion and in the prime of youth. Red oozed up her face, she could feel her blush, as she could feel Amelia's breath on her cheek.

She closed her eyes, and let herself go, into the muted music, and the silly things Amelia was telling her, the words flowing over her and into the quiet. She felt beautiful for once, and the feeling make her want to weep, it welled up inside, and she could feel her lips trembling with trying to contain the feeling.

Then it was over, and Amelia stepped away, that joyful smile on her face, and Alice tried to right herself internally, and saw Maddie sitting there with a wide look in those mulberry eyes, and a small smile on her face.

"Let me escort you out if you wish. I suppose you need a proper chaperone…" She murmured tugging on her gloves, putting her mask on.

Amelia just pouted. "I don't need a chaperone. I'm going out on my own." She led the way, as Maddie just tucked her arm shyly into Alice's. Alice followed the quick moving Amelia, whose eyes flittered back to catch Alice's. Amelia's eyes held a warmth that Alice recognized with a shock as admiration. Alice followed, her heart beating triple time, the same as the polka that was being played down the hall.

Perhaps this season would not be as gloomy as she foresaw. She gave a slight smile to the girl, who just hid behind her fan in a mock shyness. No indeed, as the blue eyes smiled and pale eyebrows arched, this season would be as well remembering on those cold winter nights when there would be no more sunshine.


End file.
